LIBRARY 

TY  OF 


NICHOLAS    BLOOD 

CANDIDATE 


BY 

ARTHUR  HENRY 


NEW  YORK: 

©liver  2>oDt>,  fmbltsber 

JUDGE  BUILDING 


LIBRARY 

OF 


COPYRIGHT,  1890, 

BY 
ARTHUR    HENRY; 


Nicholas   Blood,   Candidate. 

A  PROPHECY. 


I. 

DOES  anybody  doubt,  that  America  has 
among  her  possibilities  a  Reign  of  Terror? 

"  What !     In  this  peaceful  age  ? 

"  Our  land  is  like  the  sun,  whose  rising 
dissipates  the  darkness  of  the  world." 

Sir,  we  have  8,000,000  children  of  the  night 
among  us,  and,  like  the  shadows  of  a  dark 
and  stormy  night,  they  spread  swiftly. 

They  multiply  while  we  sleep. 

Let  us  look  at  them. 


II. 


EARLY  one  morning,  just  before  the  great 
negro  riots  in  Tennessee,  a  tall,  fine-looking 
stranger  entered  the  Peabody  Hotel,  Mem- 
phis, and  registered  to  the  name  of  Thomas 
Judd. 

The  clerk  glanced  casually  at  him,  and  knew 
at  once  that  he  was  a  Northerner. 

There  was  not  a  menial  in  the  house  but 
saw  the  word  North  written  in  his  face,  upon 
his  clothes  and  bearing. 


He  showed  them  every  consideration  :  they 
responded  with  contempt.  At  the  door  of 
the  dining-room  he  answered  the  salutation 
of  the  head  waiter,  who  upon  the  instant  ex- 
changed his  manner  of  deference  for  one  of 
superiority. 

"  Fine  weather  we're  having,  for  winter," 
said  Thomas  Judd. 

The  waiter  thrust  a  bill-of-fare  before  him 
and  did  not  reply.  Thomas  Judd  glanced  up 
and  smiled. 

The  waiter  looked  sturdily  at  the  opposite 
wall  with  an  expression  of  disgust  upon  his 
stolid  face. 

Thomas  Judd  dropped  his  eyes  to  the  card 
and  began: 

"  Hot  rolls,  if  you  please." 

'-Jus'  out  o'  hot  rolls,  sah." 

"  Well,  biscuits  will  do.      Biscuits  and " 

"Yo's  heah  too  late  fo'  biscuit." 

"Bread,  then;  you've  that,  haven't  you?" 

"  Yes,  sah;  plenty  bread." 


While  he  was  giving  the  rest  of  his  order  a 
portly,  white-haired  old  gentleman  entered, 
and  Thomas  Judd,  looking  up,  saw  him  shown 
obsequiously  to  a  seat  at  his  table.  He  was 
a  mild,  benevolent-looking  old  man,  with  wav- 
ing hair,  plump  cheeks,  double  chin,  and  con- 
tented eyes.  He  paid  no  attention  whatever 
to  the  head  waiter,  but,  taking  the  menu  card 
into  his  soft,  white  hands,  looked  it  slowly 
over,  and  mentioned  from  time  to  time  in 
well  modulated  accents  what  he  would  like. 
The  head  waiter  listened  attentively  with  his 
sable  whiskers  about  a  foot  above  the  old  gen- 
tleman's ear.  When  the  order  was  given,  he 
suggested  a  brace  of  quail. 

"  Well,  Pedro,  I  will  add  some  quail." 
The  darkey  straightened  himself  quickly, 
summoned  a  waiter,  gave  him  the  order,  and 
told  him  to  rush  it  through.  It  was  not  long 
before  a  steaming  breakfast  was  brought,  and 
Thomas  Judd  observed  his  neighbor's  elabo- 
rate preparations  to  enjoy  it,  while  he  played 


with  his  fork  and  still  waited.  Finally  he  lost 
patience,  and  attempted  to  attract  attention 
to  himself. 

"  Have  you  not  been  served  ?"  asked  his 
neighbor  courteously. 

"'I  have  not.  I  gave  my  order  thirty  min- 
utes ago." 

The  old  gentleman  laid  down  his  fork 
and  snapped  his  fingers.  Instantly  half 
the  waiters  in  the  hotel  were  at  his 
side. 

"  Come  here,  Dom  Pedro.  Damn  your  black 
skin!  send  the  nigger  that's  waiting  on  this 
gentleman  here." 

There  was  immediate  commotion  and  the 
fellow  was  found. 

"  Here,  you  black  rascal,  what  are  you 
about  ?  Bring  this  gentleman's  order.  See 
here,  damn  you!  Find  him  some  quail." 

The  waiter  vanished  like  a  shot,  and  when 
he  returned  there  was  a  plate  of  hot  rolls  on 
his  tray. 


"  You  must  swear  at  them,"  said  the  old 
gentleman,  jocularly,  as  he  resumed  his  break- 
fast. 

Thomas  Judd  discovered  that  his  acquaint- 
ance was  a  planter,  and  the  planter  discovered 
that  Thomas  Judd  came  South  to  buy  timber- 
land. 


III. 


DIRECTLY  after  dinner  Thomas  Judd  left 
the  Peabody  for  a  walk  and  turned  without 
any  hesitation  from  Main  Street  up  Monroe,  in 
the  direction  of  the  river.  He  had  hardly 
stepped  around  the  corner,  before  a  succession 
of  sharp  explosions  like  the  sound  of  .burst- 
ing torpedoes  caused  him  to  look  about.  As 
he  did  so  he  saw  in  the  middle  of  the  street 
one  of  the  happiest  and  handsomest  specimens 
that  he  had  ever  seen  of  the  happiest  and 
laziest  race  on  earth. 


10 


He  was  a  tall  and  agile  darkey  standing  on  a 
chunky  two-wheeled  dray,  his  long  legs  spread 
out  at  an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees,  his  huge 
feet  encased  in  a  boot  one-half  of  whose  top 
had  been  cut  away,  and  a  shoe,  stringless, 
gaping,  and  tied  on  with  a  rag.  His  clothes 
were  a  picturesque  collection  of  tatters.  A 
greasy  slouch  hat  crushed  out  of  all  possible 
shape,  with  flopping  brim,  rested  on  his  glossy 
kinks  so  as  to  nearly  cover  his  right  ear  and 
his  huge  domestic  bump.  His  face  was  like 
a  black  sun.  Every  muscle  was  acting  under 
the  impulse  of  an  inexhaustible  animal  life. 
His  eyes  rolled  continually,  his  broad  nose  was 
pulled  from  side  to  side  with  the  contortions 
of  his  huge  mouth,  his  cheeks  shone,  and  every 
wrinkle  of  his  face  laughed.  In  one  hand  he 
held  the  reins  and  in  the  other  a  whip  whose 
long  leather  lash  he  sent  in  swift,  writhing 
motions  from  the  ears  of  his  leader  to  its  full 
length  behind  him,  bringing  it  up  at  each  end 
with  a  load  crack.  These  were  the  rapid  sue- 


II 


cession  of  sounds  that  attracted  Thomas  J  udd's 
notice.  Just  as  he  was  passing  their  eyes  met. 
Seeing,  no  doubt,  the  look  of  lively  curiosity 
given  him,  the  negro  brought  his  head  sudden- 
ly forward,  gave  a  spasmodic  flop  to  his  legs, 
humped  his  back,  stuck  out  his  elbows,  stif- 
fened his  neck,  dropped  his  huge  jaw,  exposed 
the  whites  of  his  eyes,  and  swinging  on  the 
reins  for  a  moment  in  this  attitude,  he  favored 
Judd  with  a  yet  broader  grin.  It  was  for  an 
instant  only,  then,  becoming  suddenly  limber, 
he  burst  into  an  uproarious,  juicy  laugh,  and 
with  a  loud  crack  of  his  long  whip,  clattered 
away.  His  dray  was  empty,  but  it  was  evident 
from  the  alacrity  of  his  pace  that  he  was  not 
now  bound  for  another  load.  He  went  to  the 
end  of  the  block  to  Front  Street,  and  leaving 
Monroe,  which  here  cut  through  the  bluffs 
down  to  the  levee,  turned  to  the  left  and 
dashed  with  a  flourish  into  the  midst  of  a  mass 
of  wagons  and  teams.  He  had  reached  a 
large  common  overlooking  the  river,  situated 


12 


between  the  edge  of  the  bluffs  and  the  tumult- 
uous market  street  of  Memphis.  This  com- 
mon is  the  visiting  "  niggers' "  restaurant,  for 
men  and  mules.  It  is  also  their  Board  of 
Trade. 

11  Hyr  dah,  you  obstrepus  black  nigger ; 
pramulate  from  fo'  de  progress  of  dees  yer 
mules — hyr  dah  !  hyr  dah  !  Hyr, — lo'  Unc' 
Samson,"  he  cried,  first  in  a  loud,  oratorical 
tone  to  a  group  of  darkies  discussing  politics, 
and  then  in  a  cordial  voice  as  he  recognized 
an  old  friend.  Presently  he  found  himself  in 
a  bewildering  entanglement  of  wagon  wheels, 
mules,  and  chattering  darkies.  It  was  impos- 
sible to  go  further.  His  leader  was  astride  a 
wagon-tongue,  and  his  shaft  mule  was  content- 
edly helping  himself  from  a  basket  of  parsnips 
in  the  hind  end  of  a  neighboring  cart.  A 
Yankee  under  these  circumstances  would 
have  given  vent  to  a  good-natured  oath  or 
two,  and  calmly  made  the  most  of  it.  But  not 
so  our  darkey.  He  gave  a  leer  in  the  direction 


of  the  parsnips,  rolled  his  head  about  for  a 
moment,  and  fixing  his  eyes  on  one  of  the 
group  in  front  of  him,  cracked  his  whip  with- 
in an  inch  of  his  ear  and  said,  addressing  the 
startled  darkey  in  a  tone  of  solemn  deliberation, 
and  producing  during  the  course  of  his  har- 
angue all  the  possible  notes  of  a  trombone  : 

"  Now,  jes  yo'  look  eyah,  Nebcadnezzar 
Jones  ;  ef  you  don'  remove  yo'se'f  from  fo' 
my  mules,  I'll — jes'  sho's  Col.  Gabril  goin  t' 
blow  ees  horn  in  de  mo'ne — I'll  discompose 
yo'  high  flootin  in  de  interiah  ob  dis  yeah 
leader — sho's  yo're " 

While  rolling  his  eyes  by  way  of  emphasis 
to  this  solemn  threat,  there  came  into  view 
a  big  pink  sun-bonnet,  in  whose  cavernous 
depths  lurked  the  whites  of  a  pair  of  large 
eyes,  an  inquisitive  nose,  and  a  mouth  between 
the  smiling  lips  of  which  shone  two  rows  of 
remarkably  white  teeth.  The  orator  stopped 
in  the  midst  of  his  sentence,  looked  suddenly 
foolish,  and  presumably  blushed. 


It  was  the  i8th  day  of  December,  and  hot. 
The  men  were  without  coats,  and  the  mules 
were  damp  with  sweat.  The  grass  on  the 
Common  was  brown  and  dry.  Dust  covered 
the  boots  of  all.  In  the  centre  of  the  circle, 
directly  in  front  of  where  our  darkey  stopped, 
a  little  nondescript  Jew  was  selling  goods. 
His  basket  was  placed  on  an  empty  box. 
Between  it  and  individuals  of  his  audience  he 
ran  continually,  offering  his  goods  in  an  im- 
petuous manner  and  talking  through  his 
nose. 

It  was  a  ridiculous  sight — this  circle  of 
negroes  of  all  sizes,  kinds,  and  degrees  of 
raggedness,  that  stood  staring  stupidly  at  the 
impetuous  little  Jew.  Gaudy  silk  handker- 
chiefs, many-colored  suspenders,  brass  jewelry, 
and  perfumery  were  brandished  in  their  faces. 
There  was  not  one  in  the  crowd  but  that  had 
his  pockets  stuffed  with  every  conceivable 
thing  that  a  Jew  could  offer  him.  Jock  did 
not  escape  ;  he  had  scarcely  joined  the  circle 


before  he  was  persuaded  into  buying  a  hand- 
ful of  worthless  things. 

Holding  them  awkwardly  in  his  great  hands, 
he  took  his  way  to  the  wagon  where  the  sun- 
bonnet  was. 

"  How-dy,  J'mimy?"  he  said,  lifting  his 
head  and  looking  rather  sheepishly  into  the 
face  above  him. 

Darkies,  in  their  conversation,  sing.  There 
is  a  minor  sadness  to  every  tone.  They  may 
be  superstitious  and  ignorant;  but  their  voices 
are  like  ancient  harps.  When  they  speak 
it  is  like  obscenity  put  to  the  Te  Deum.  It  is 
as  though  a  bobolink  had  talked  slang. 

"  'Llo,  Jock  ;  wah'd  yo'  come  from?  I 
'lowed  yo's  dead  ;  I  reckon'd'  debil  cotched 
yo'— b'fo  de  Lo'd,  I  did." 

The  sentence  flowed  from  her  mouth,,  one 
word  into  another,  like  the  molecules  of  some 
strange,  melodious  water.  Still  holding  awk- 
wardly the  trinkets  in  one  hand,,  with  the 
other  he  shoved  his  crumpled  hat  still  further 


on  the  back  of  his  head,  and  looking  every- 
where -but  into  her  eyes,  he  said,  with  a  fool- 
ish grin  playing  over  his  good-natured  face: 

"  Oh,  I's  still  heah.  I's  jes  gwine  by  'n  I 
seed  you.  How's  you  all,  J'mimy  ?" 

"  Tol'able." 

After  a  moment's  silence,  in  which  Jemimy 
looked  at  her  hands  and  Jock  stood  leaning 
his  elbows  on  the  top  of  the  wagon  -  box, 
Jemimy  continued: 

"  Reckon  yo'  done  stopped  comiri'  to  ou' 
place." 

He  straightened  his  back,  and  said  with 
more  self-assurance  than  before  : 

"  Oh,  I  bin  powerfu'  busy  dis  yeah  week. 
I  bin  contained  away.  I  couldn't  get  no  time, 
nohow." 

"You  bin  fool'n'  roun'  some  nigger  gal. 
But  you  kain't  worry  me.  Dey's  heaps  mo' 
fellers  come  t'  see  me." 

"  See  yeah,   J'mimy,  wha'  I  done  got  yo'." 

He  tossed  the  trinkets  into  her  lap. 


"  Go  'long.  What  I  gwi'  do  'd  dis  yeah 
truck  ?  Yo'  be'er  bring  me  sump'in  pur'  fine 
when  yo'  come  out  to  on'  place." 

"  Reckon  yo's  mahty  raspin'.  I  don't  guess 
I'll  go  out  yo'  place."  .  * 

"Now,  jes'  yo'  look  a  yeah,  you  sassy 
nigger,  you  isn'  'bleeged  to." 

"  Whee-ee-ee-yah — sho'  nuff,  I  ain't." 

When  the  noon  hour  was  over,  Jock  liber- 
ated his  mules  from  their  surroundings  and 
drove  to  the  levee. 


•r'8 


IV. 


The  levee!— 

How  impossible  it  is  to  describe  this  tumult- 
uous  scene.  From  the  bluffs  to  the  water's 
edge  is  an  immense  inclined  plane  of  granite 
paving-stones.  In  the  centre,  about  two  hun- 
dred feet  from  the  bluffs,  runs  a  wide  road 
the  entire  length  of  the  levee  and  disappears 
among  the  compress  factories  and  oil  mills, 
whose  great  bulks  and  tall  chimneys  appear 
in  the  distance.  Between  this  road  and  the 


bluffs  the  levee  is  nearly  level ;  from  here  to 
the  river  it  is  a  steep  descent.  Above  the 
road  there  is  little  moving.  On  it  come  and 
go  continually  a  swift  stream  of  cotton  loads- 
and  empty  drays  and  great  piles  of  small 
cargo  to  and  from  local  jobbing  houses  ; 
below  it  there  is  during  busy  hours  a  con- 
glomerate mass  of  drays,  mules,  cotton  bales, 
sacks  of  cotton  seed,  darkies,  and  all  sorts  of 
freight.  Beyond  is  the  long  row  of  steamers 
that  line  the  shore,  and  in  the  background 
sweep  the  waters  of  the  Mississippi. 

The  centre  of  activity  upon  this  day  was 
the  "Big  Sandy,"  a  large  boat  of  the  Mem- 
phis and  Cincinnati  line,  that  had  just  arrived, 
bringing  a  cargo  of  two  thousand  cotton 
bales,  that  had  been  picked  up  along  the  river, 
north.  A  huge  pile  of  boxes  and  furniture 
and  bags  of  cotton  seed  were  being  carried, 
one  piece  at  a  time,  by  a  long  stream  of  lazy 
darkies  over  the  gang-plank  into  the  bowels 
of  the  big  boat.  These  same  laborers,  re- 


20 


turning  by  way  of  the  stage  plank  at  the 
prow,  rolled  before  them  the  cotton  bales 
and  piled  them  in  rows  some  distance  up  the 
levee.  The  whole  transaction  was  stamped 
with  the  seal  of  this  easy-going  South.  The 
laborers  all  possessed  the  slouchy  "  nigger 
gait."  Above  the  din  of  wheels  rumbling 
over  the  rough  pavement,  drivers  shouting 
to  their  stupid  mules,  escaping  steam,  shrill 
whistles,  the  loading  and  unloading  of  freight, 
could  be  heard  for  a  great  distance  the  bel- 
lowing of  the  overseers,  who  are,  as  a  rule, 
unusually  active  darkies,  with  monstrous 
lungs  and  an  inexhaustible  supply  of  big 
words  ;  who  howl  terribly  without  taking 
breath,  brandish  sticks,  wave  their  arms, 
stamp  their  feet,  and  make  startling  lunges 
in  all  directions,  threatening  the  idle,  cursing 
the  active,  bluffing  the  bystanders,  and  adding 
prodigiously  in  every  way  to  the  tumult  of  the 
scene  without  otherwise  affecting  it.  Regard- 
less of  these  busybodies  that  buzzed  about 


21 


them  like  great  gnats,  the  darkies  shuffled  here 
and  there,  rolling,  with  shiftless  motions  and 
with  more  rests  than  efforts,  the  cotton  bales. 

With  the  other  noises  mingled  frequently 
snatches  of  song  and  the  musical  laughter  of 
these  lazy  fellows. 

When  Jock  and  his  mules  reached  the  scene 
there  was  nothing  for  them  to  do.  Their  con- 
signment of  cotton  was  not  yet  unloaded.  He 
lifted  his  head  and  looked  mechanically  about 
him.  A  few  yards  back,  the  overseer  was 
shouting  frantically  to  his  men.  The  stream 
of  laborers  was  passing  to  and  fro.  The 
heavy  bales  were  being  tumbled  into  place  or 
rolled  upon  the  drays  that  constantly  backed 
into  position  to  receive  them.  Mules  were 
straining  every  muscle  to  pull  the  heavy  loads 
up  hill,  beating  their  iron  shoes  and  slipping 
frightfully  in  their  attempts  to  find  a  pur- 
chase on  the  hard  pavement.  As  he  looked, 
one  of  these  animals  stumbled,  struggled  to 
his  feet,  strained  against  the  backward  move- 


ment  of  the  dray,  slipped,  lost  the  footing  of 
his  fore-feet  entirely,  and  with  a  heavy  lurch, 
fell  upon  his  knees.  He  could  not  rise  ;  his 
leg  was  broken.  Jock  was  startled  for  a 
moment,  saw  the  crowd  gather,  knew  the 
beast  would  be  killed  and  hauled  away,  and 
then  he  forgot  it.  He  observed  listlessly  the 
teams  moving  slowly  along  the  road  above  ; 
some  of  the  drivers  half  asleep,  others  shout- 
ing to  their  mules  and  joking  with  whomever 
they  met,  and  here  and  there  a  very  old  one, 
swaying  slowly  back  and  forth,  and  singing  at 
the  top  of  his  feeble  voice  remnants  of  plan- 
tation songs. 

Jock  pushed  his  way  through  the  outer 
circle  of  idle  carts  and  among  the  bursting 
cotton  bales,  the  soft  contents  of  which  pro- 
truded from  countless  holes  like  white  breasts 
eager  for  the  lips  of  humanity. 

Thousands  of  tons  had  been  shipped  away, 
thousands  more  were  packed  within  the  ware- 
houses and  compress  factories,  thousands  lay 


upon  the  levee,  a  swarm  of  huge  boats,  creak- 
ing with  their  burden,  lined  the  shore,  and  for 
a  hundred  miles  others  were  panting  hither 
freighted  with  a  monstrous  offering  for  the 
commerce  of  the  world.  Little  white  flakes 
attached  themselves  as  quickly  as  sly  kisses 
to  Jock's  clothes  as  he  passed  among  the  bales 
to  where  the  overseer,  standing  near  the  stage 
plank,  was  dancing  about,  very  much  in  the 
way  of  everybody,  and  bawling  himself  hoarse 
in  order  that  his  "  niggers  "  might  not  sleep. 
He  stopped  long  enough  to  glance  savagely  at 
Jock,  who  asked  for  work,  and,  recognizing 
him,  he  shouted,  very  glad  to  get  him  : 

''Get  along,  yo'  dam  black  niggah  ;  I  won' 
hav  no  reconnoitern  roun'  heah.  Promulgate 
yo'se'f  among  these  yeer  niggahs  and  wo'k — 
wo'k  I  say — I  hain't  go'n'  to  favo'nobod';  yo' 
all  go'  wo'k." 

Jock  stepped  along  the  levee  to  where  a 
great  pile  of  cotton  meal  was  slowly  disap- 
pearing. He  waited  his  turn,  and  receiving 


upon  his  thick  head  and  huge  shoulders  one 
of  the  bilious-looking  bags,  he  fell  into  line 
and  shuffled  with  the  rest  over  the  gang  plank 
through  the  wharf  boat,  and  into  the  yawning 
recesses  of  the  "  Big  Sandy." 

The  Mississippi  packets  are  a  law  unto 
themselves.  There  are  none  like  them  in  the 
world.  They  are  picturesque  and  ungainly- 
looking,  but  are  exactly  suited  to  their  pur- 
pose. They  are  exceedingly  light,  and  built 
so  as  to  cover  as  much  water  as  possible. 
There  is  no  room  for  cargo  below  the  surface, 
for  these  reasons  it  is  possible  to  carry  great 
loads  even  when  the  river  is  low.  These  boats 
have  one,  and  sometimes  two  light  galleries 
encircling  them.  In  the  interior,  hidden  from 
view,  the  long,  narrow  parlor  and  dining-room 
runs  down  thecentre.  At  the  stern  is  the  kitchen 
and  laundry,  concealed  from  the  outside  on 
some  boats  by  an  open  lattice.  If  watching 
from  the  levee,  you  will  sometimes  see  a  mon- 
strous woman,  as  fat  as  a  goose  and  as  black  as 


a  kettle,  hanging  up  clothes  to  dry  on  one  of 
these  galleries  at  the  stern.  If  somewhat  hand- 
some yourself,  and  in  uncommonly  good  luck, 
you  may  see  a  pair  of  glowing  quadroon  eyes 
peering  at  you  from  behind  the  slats. 

To  see  one  of  these  boats,  well  loaded,  com- 
ing toward  you  down  the  stream,  with  all  the 
galleries  overflowing  with  boxes  and  bed- 
clothes, with  chicken-coops  and  all  sorts  of 
furniture,  with  kitchen  utensils,  hoop  skirts, 
boots,  and  wash-basins  hanging  from  every 
post  and  peg  and  peering  from  every  crevice, 
you  might  easily  suppose  that  here  was  some 
unfortunate  family  whose  house,  uprooted  and 
deformed  by  a  flood,  was  floating  helplessly 
toward  the  Gulf. 

Jock,  as  he  joined  the  laborers,  became  at 
once  a  part  of  the  surroundings.  He  bent  his 
knees,  he  swung  his  arms,  and  dragged  his 
feet  as  he  shuffled  in  line  with  the  rest. 

The  conversation  to-day  was  of  an  uncom- 
monly serious  order,  and  had  great  interest. 


26 


Whenever  the  men  were  sufficiently  far  enough 
away  from  the  overseer,  and  for  a  moment  un- 
observed, they  gathered  in  eager  groups,  and 
with  faces  as  wise  as  owls  listened,  while  he 
who  got  under  way  first  expounded  in  an  un- 
dertone upon  the  case  in  hand,  with  many  ges- 
ticulations and  the  occasional  slap  of  one 
broad  foot. 

The  question  of  to-day  was  politics.  The 
city  of  Memphis  was  about  to  elect  a  new 
President  of  the  Council,  and  the  negroes  had 
a  candidate. 

The  government  of  Memphis  is  unlike  that 
of  any  other  city. 

In the  worthy  Mayor  and  a  few  of  his 

chosen  among  the  city  officials,  becoming  tired 
of  an  honest  life,  or  it  may  be  having  grown 
weary  of  small  thefts  and  anxious  to  attempt 
something  worthy  of  their  stuff,  issued  a  large 
amount  of  municipal  paper,  and  put  the  pro- 
ceeds into  their  own  pockets.  But  the  citi- 
zens not  being  able  to  appreciate  brains  of 


this  sort,  and  not  able  to  convict  the  rogues, 
refused  to  pay  the  debt,  tendered  to  the  State 
its  charter,  and  became  a  tax-paying  district, 
which  it  has  remained  until  this  day,  without 
the  power  to  issue  bonds,  and  running  its' 
business  strictly  on  a  cash  basis.  The  City 
Council  is  composed  of  two  Fire  and  Police 
Commissioners,  a  Board  of  Public  Works,  and 
a  School  Board,  each  composed  of  three  men. 
The  Fire  and  Police  Commissioner  who  heads 
the  ticket  is  President  of  the  Council  and  tax- 
paying  district.  For  eight  years  —  —  held 
this  position,  and  in  the  course  of  time  be- 
came practically  the  only  man  in  the  city.  A 
quarrel  over  the  rights  of  a  street-car  com- 
pany led  to  an  eruption,  and  the  general  dis- 
satisfaction felt  for  some  time  against  this  one 
man's  rule  took  occasion  to  vent  itself.  The 
consequence  was  an  unprecedented  split  in 
the  Democracy  of  Memphis. 

In  the  midst  of  the  confusion  which  imme- 
diately followed  upon  the  opening  of  the  con- 


28 


test,  a  terrible  thing  appeared.  It  was  a 
"nigger"  candidate.  The  convention  that  had 
nominated  him  was  like  the  unseen  gathering 
of  a  great  black  cloud.  The  nomination  fell 
like  a  thunder-bolt.  The  man  was  one 
Nicholas  Blood.  He  was  known  only  among 
the  negroes,  and  by  them  he  was  called 
"  Old  Nick,"  or  "  Black  Bill,"  or  sometimes 
"Blood,"  a  name  given  him  by  his  fellows — 
for  he  knew  neither  father  nor  mother — be- 
cause of  the  streaks  in  his  eyes  and  the  fero- 
ciousness of  his  disposition. 

The  election  law  of  Memphis  compels  the 
appearance  of  the  names  of  all  candidates  upon 
one  ticket.  The  appearance  of  that  name  was 
like  the  hand-writing  on  the  wall,  and  those 
who  read,  trembled.  Timid  people  looked 
askance  at  the  dumb  letters  as  at  the  eyes  of 
a  serpent  glistening  on  them  from  the  way- 
side. Many  there  were  who  read  and  tore  the 
name  in  two  with  fierce  oaths  and  savage 
frowns. 


All  day  long  a  peculiar-looking  and  exceed- 
ingly ill-favored  darkey  shouldered  his  meal 
bags  just  in  front  of  Jock,  and  rolled  at  the 
cotton  bales  by  his  side.  His  figure  was  short 
and  massive,  his  broad  back  was  always  stoop- 
ing, his  brutal  head  was  bent,  and  when  he 
looked  up  a  pair  of  bloodshot  eyes,  dull,  were 
it  not  for  a  certain  brutal  brightness,  glowed 
from  beneath  a  pair  of  heavy  brows. 

Two  white  men  stood  by  the  open  door  of 
the  wharf-boat  within  a  few  feet  of  the  stream 
of  laborers,  who  passed  constantly  over  a 
plank  which  led  from  this  place  to  the  boat 
they  were  loading.  One  of  these,  the  presi- 
dent of  a  large  steamer  line  company  that 
owned  this  wharf-boat,  was  short,  with  a  well- 
rounded  stomach,  small  eyes,  and  a  very 
shrewd  face.  The  other  was  Judge  Rector, 
the  Democratic  candidate  for  the  city's 
chief  office.  His  features  were  large  and 
his  face,  not  very  full,  was  marked  with 
lines  of  strength.  He  wore  no  beard.  His 


iron -gray  hair  was  covered  by  a  wide- 
brimmed  soft  hat,  such  as  many  Southern 
gentlemen  wear.  He  was  gazing  earnestly 
from  his  deep  gray  eyes  down  upon  his  com- 
panion and  speaking  of  this  new  and  start- 
ling situation. 

"  It  is  the  beginning,"  he  said,  slowly,  as 
though  intending  to  say  more  ;  then  he  stop- 
ped as  though  that  were  sufficient. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  other,  briskly.  "  It  is  the 
beginning — but  of  what  ?" 

"That,"  replied  the  first,  "is. more  easily 
thought  about  than  expressed." 

After  a  moment's  silence  he  continued,  with 
a  flash  of  energy  in  his  face  and  movement. 

"  Why,  sir,  if  these  fellows  should  gain  con- 
trol of  finances  and  affairs  they  would  spend 
our  money  among  themselves  like  water;  they 
would  pass  laws  against  labor;  schools  would 
be  replaced  by  bawdy  houses  and  gambling 
hells;  they  would  build  jumping-jacks  by  way 
of  public  improvement;  manufactories  would 


be  left  to  labor  for  themselves,  and  our  only 
industry  would  in  time  be  that  of  child-bear- 
ing" 

As  he  spoke,  he  stepped  back,  and  coming 
suddenly  into  contact  with  a  passing  negro, 
was  very  nearly  thrown  into  the  river. 

Had  Jock  followed  the  example  of  his  pre- 
decessor, such  would  have  been  the  case.  He 
stopped  until  the  old  gentleman  could  recover 
himself  and  step  out  of  the  way,  then  passed 
on. 

"  That  was  a  trifle  more  roughly  done  than 
necessary,  was  it  not,  Mr.  Trask  ?" 

"I  reckon  so,  Judge  ;  but  you  can't  prove 
it,  and  the  discharge  of  a  nigger  for  a  thing 
like  that  would  be  made  a  heap  of  just 
now." 

Both  gentlemen  had  retired  a  short  distance 
from  the  door  to  continue  their  conversation; 
and  the  Judge,  as  he  talked  or  listened,  ob- 
served occasionally  with  mild  attentiveness  the 
faces  of  the  men  as  they  passed. 


"True,"  he  said,  in  his  usual  thoughtful 
manner;  "  it  is  this  notoriety  that  ruins  them." 

"  Yes,"  interrupted  Mr.  Trask,  crisply,  "  I 
know.  I  used  to  be  a  Northerner — was  a  blue 
coat,  and  when  a  young  man  I  ran  an  aboli- 
tion newspaper  in  Pennsylvania.  Before  the 
war  I  cursed  you,  and  you  deserved  it  then. 
After  the  war  I  called  you  bloodthirsty 
lords  and  damned  tyrants.  I  used  to  hold  up 
the  poor  colored  brethren  to  view  as  an  op- 
pressed and  lamb-like  race.  That's  just  the 
trouble — by  God! — they're  the  pet  of  all  those 
that  love  to  preach  and  know  nothing  about 
them.  But  if  those  who  say  most  had  these 
fellows  among  them  and  their  beautiful  cities 
honeycombed  with  their  huts,  and  their  com- 
merce smothered  with  a  weight  of  shiftless 
labor,  they  would,  as  I  have  learned  to  do,  see 
the  situation  differently,  and  kick  against  it 
like  the  devil." 

"That  was  the  man,"  said  the  Judge,,  look- 
ing closely  at  the  darkies  in  the  line. 


33 


"Yes— has  a  bad  face." 

The  man  commented  upon  gave  them  a 
look  of  stupid  ferocity  as  he  passed.  His  eyes 
for  the  moment  glowered  with  a  sullen  anger 
that  is  sometimes  seen  in  old,  ijl-natured  dogs.' 
They  fell  before  the  mild,  superior  gaze  of  the 
Judge.  For  something  to  do  he  projected  from 
his  great  coarse  lips  a  stream  of  tobacco  juice. 

"Not  because  I  hate  the  niggers  for  their 
ignorance  and  depravity — it  is  not  their  fault; 
but,  by  God  !  they  must  not  govern  us  simply 
because  they  can  breed  faster  then  we.  What 
we  are  to  do  with  them,!  cannot  tell.  This 
whole  country  is  kept  back  by  their  shift- 
lessness.  Look  how  they  walk — like  snails. 
Each  one  has  with  him  the  smallest  load  that 
he  can  find.  We  cannot  use  machinery,  for  they 
break  it ;  and  to  have  our  work  done  by  hand, 
as  it  is  done  throughout  all  the  South,  is  to 
wait  for  it." 

He  talked,  not  to  teach  all  this  to  his  list- 
ener, but  simply  to  ease  his  mind,  as  every  one 


34 


was  doing  now.  As  Jock  came  through  the 
boat  again  the  Judge  stepped  forward,  took 
him  by  the  arm  and  drew  him  from  the  line. 

"Who  is  the  fellow  in  front  of  you?"  he 
asked,  indifferently. 

"Hees  name's  Black  Bill,  sah." 

"  His  other  name  is  Nicholas  Blood,  is  it 
not  ?" 

"  O  Lor'  no,  hees  name  jes'  Black  Bill, 
nuffin  mo',  jes'  Black  Bill." 

"  Um  — ,  I  thought  so,"  said  the  Judge,  as  he 
allowed  Jock  to  pass  on. 

"Trask,"  he  continued,  turning  toward  his 
friend  with  a  grave  face,  "  I  have  met  the 
enemy." 

About  an  hour  later  Black  Bill  was  paid  off 
and  discharged.  He  left  his  work  without  a 
word,  and  shuffling  his  unshapely  shoes  down 
to  the  river's  edge,  took  off  his  hat,  laden  with 
the  grease  of  years  and  moist  with  sweat, 
swept  away  the  slops  that  were  floating  by, 
and,  dipping  it  full  of  water,  drank.  Shaking 


35 


the  drops  from  it,  he  placed  it  on  his  head  and 
left  the  levee. 

Judge  Rector,  standing  upon  the  edge  of- 
the  wharf-boat,  watched  him  until  lost  in  the 
confusion  below. 

The  Judge  was  absorbed  and  did  not  notice 
the  disorderly  rush  all  about  him  until  his  at- 
tention was  caught  by  an  accident. 

A  small  dray,  heavily  loaded,  was  moving 
slowly  up  the  hill.  A  sudden  jolt  dislodged  one 
of  the  bales,  and  immediately  the  whole  load 
came  rolling  off.  The  driver,  howling  and 
terribly  frightened,  was  squeezed  ia  between 
two  heavy  bales. 

The  Judge,  thinking  the  fellow  might  be 
really  in  danger,  started  forward,  but  saw, 
to  his  surprise,  a  well-dressed  and  distin- 
guished-looking gentleman,  who  had  been 
standing  near,  step  forward,  and  without 
assistance,  lift  one  monstrous  bundle  after 
the  other  and  set  them  to  one  side.  The 
liberated  darkey  scrambled  to  his  feet,  and, 


with  the  aid  of  two  others,  reloaded  the  dray. 
The  stranger  brushed  the  dust  from  his  hands 
and  knees,  looked  up  and  exclaimed  : 

''Judge  Rector  !v 

"Why,  I  ought  to  know  you,  sir/'  cried  the 
Judge,  as  he  grasped  his  hand.  "  You  are 
Thomas  Judd." 

Both  men  were  of  the  same  height  and  very 
tall.  Both  had  large  proportions.  The  North- 
erner was  younger,  not  more  than  twenty-six 
years  old,  and  more  robust.  His  head,  too 
was  unusually  large  and  covered  by  a  rather 
shaggy  mass  of  hair  that  added  to  the  rug- 
gedness  of  his  appearance.  Their  eyes  were 
alike  in  their  quality  of  great  depth.  Judd's 
were  darker,  brighter,  more  active,  eager  and 
alive.  Those  of  the  Judge  were  more  benign. 

"It  must  have  strained  you,"  said  the  Judge, 
anxiously,  nodding  at  the  cotton  bales. 

"Not  at  all/'  laughed  Judd.  "I've  just 
come  out  of  a  lumber  camp  and  am  suffering 
for  a  little  exercise." 


37 


"  Why,  Tom,  it  must  be  ten  years  since  I 
have  seen  you — since  that  winter  up  there  in 
the  woods.  And  your  father?"  asked  the 
Judge,  as  they  walked  on,  "  I'd  like  to  see  your 
father.  When  I  knew  him  he  was  a  fine 
specimen  of  a  man." 

''Yes,  he's  pretty  hard  to  handle  now," 
laughed  Judd,  "when  he  gets  the  under 
hold." 

"  I  remember,  you  couldn't  do  much  with 
him  then.  You  were  just  big  enough  then 
to  brag  safely.  But  your  father,  Tom,  does  he 
remember  me  ?" 

"Yes,  indeed.  Just  before  I  came  away  he 
showed  me  a  terribly  battered  pair  of  boxing 
gloves  that  you  used  to  knock  each  other 
down  with " 

"  Well,  we  did  use  each  other  pretty  roughly. 
You  see  " — the  Judge  took  his  companion's 
arm — "that  was  about  the  first  let  up  I'd  had 
since  my  college  days,  and  I  forgot  for  one 
whole  winter  just  how  old  I  was." 


Thomas  Judd  looked  covertly  at  the  grave, 
kind  face  of  the  Judge,  at  his  hair  just 
touched  with  gray,  at  his  stately  bearing, 
and  felt  a  sort  of  pride  in  the  hand  upon  his 
arm. 

"I  should  have  called  to-morrow." 

"  That'll  not  do,  Tom;  you  must  come  and 
stay " 

"No " 

"  Let's  have  no  excuses  ;  you  must  come. 
Why,  Tom,  what  did  you  expect  to  do  ?  You 
must  come  with  me  now — 

"  No,  no,  Judge  ;  wait  until  to-morrow,  any 
way.  Fact  is  my  baggage  hasn't  come " 

"  Never  mind  your  baggage,  we'll " 

"  No,  Judge,  not  until  to-morrow,  I  beg  of 
you." 

He  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  asked: 

"  How  is — the  little  girl  I  used  to  go  coast- 
ing with  ?" 

"Annie?  She's  quite  a  woman  now.  So 
you  remember  her?" 


39 


"  Yes;  I  did  not  wish  to  forget,"  he  answered. 

"Well,  that  was  a  fine  winter  for  us  both. 
She  often  speaks  of  her  big  play-fellow." 

After  a  moment's  silence  the  Judge  said, 
with  a  quiet  laugh  : 

"  Are  you  as  rampant  a  negro  champion  as 
ever  ?" 

"  Ah,  Judge,  you've  hit  a  vital  point  there. 
I  confess  I'm  as  much  interested,  though  not 
so  hot-headed.  I  am  open  to  conviction. 
Fact  is,  I  don't  know  much  about  the  actual 
situation,  only  by  hearsay  and  the  newspapers. 
I  believe  the  negro  is  the  greatest  problem  of 
America,  but  I  know  very  little  of  him." 

"I  will  introduce  you  to  him,"  said  the 
Judge,  smiling  gravely.  "  Will  you  be  at 
leisure  to-night?" 


VI. 


IT  was  Saturday.  Jock's  spirits,  which  had 
been  rapidly  rising  all  the  afternoon,  were  un- 
commonly high  as  he  left  the  levee  at  the 
close  of  his  day's  work,  with  his  money  mak- 
ing merry  music  as  he  walked.  He  had  a 
"  right  smart  "  of  it  in  his  pocket.  He  would 
send  some  of  it  to  his  mother  ;  he  would  buy  a 
"heap"  of  things  for  the  holidays — enough  to 
fill  even  Jemimy's  plump  stockings.  Then 
he  would  have  enough  left  to  get  "  powerful 


happy,"  if  not  quite  drunk,  on  Christmas  Day. 
With  these  encouraging  reflections  he  drove 
his  mules  to  the  stable,  and  went  as  quickly 
as  was  consistent  with  his  loose  gait  to  the 
slop-shop  where  he  boarded.  This  was  a  place 
so  terrible  and  reeking  with  such  vile  odors 
that  I  am  forced  to  hold  my  nose  while  writ- 
ing of  it. 

It  was  a  little  one-story  shanty,  not  more 
than  seven  feet  high,  that  had  been  squeezed 
into  a  narrow  space  between  two  larger  build- 
ings. Upon  one  side  was  a  pawn-shop  and 
second-hand  clothing  store,  where  dry-goods, 
boots  and  shoes,  and  groceries,  crockery  and 
beer  were  sold  by  half  a  dozen  families  of 
Italian  Jews.  Upon  the  other  side  was  a 
barber-shop,  run  by  a  fat  and  voluble  black 
woman.  Joined  to  this  little  shanty  at  the 
eaves,  was  the  wide  porch  that  overshadowed 
the  entire  street,  so  that  the  filth  of  its  front 
was  left  in  comparative  obscurity.  Opening 
into  it  from  the  street,  was  a  low,  narrow 


door,  that  caused  Jock  to  stoop  as  he  passed 
through,  and  a  small  window  ;  no  light  came 
through  this,  however,  because  on  the  inside 
it  was  coated  thickly  with  greasy  steam,  and 
on  the  outside  with  mud.  Upon  the  one  hand 
the  large  striped  post  of  the  barber -shop 
hugged  the  door  casing,  and  upon  the  other 
a  spotted  dress  skirt,  a  dozen  or  more  faded 
wraps  and  shawls,  and  a  pair  of  discolored 
breeches  hung  from  a  wooden  support  so  as 
to  nearly  hide  the  window.  Within,  there 
was  not  more  than  room  for  a  tall  man  to 
stand  without  bumping  his  head  against  the 
plastering  which,  lined  with  large  cracks  and 
hanging  loosely,  threatened  to  come  down  all 
at  once  instead  of  by  piece-meal  as  it  was  doing. 
This  wrould  have  happened  long  ago,  were  it 
not  for  the  savory  incense  of  fat  pork  and  the 
lard  in  which  the  potatoes  were  cooked,  that 
constantly  ascended  thither,  and,  with  its 
sticking  qualities,  held  it  together.  There 
was  just  width  enough  for  the  counter  in  the 


43 


centre,  and  for  space  in  front  sufficient  for 
the  men  to  stand  and  eat,  and  behind  it  for 
the  waiter  to  serve  them.  This  waiter  was  a 
Chinaman.  He  it  was  who  owned  the  place, 
and  stood  with  hands  folded  under  his  shirt,' 
with  his  dimpled  face  wreathed  in  smiles, 
his  long  queue,  which  nearly  always  came 
undone,  hanging  with  its  tip  in  the  butter,  or 
lying  coiled  upon  the  meat  thrown  loosely  on 
the  shelf  behind  him,  as  he  observed  with 
blinking,  oblong  eyes,  the  customers  whom  he 
had  helped  to  a  large  supply  of  food  for  a 
little  money. 

But  the  feature  about  all  this  most  notice- 
able and  longest  to  be  remembered,  is  not  to  be 

put  to  paper;  it  is  a  thing  to  .      If  it  were 

possible  to  gather  together  the  odor  of  all  the 
generations  of  "  colored  gentlemen  "  who  had 
sat  upon  these  stools,  together  with  that  of 
the  putrid  liver  and  strong  bacon,  bad  eggs, 
and  potatoes  fried  in  cheap  lard,  and  pork 
that  had  come  to  no  good  end  that  they  had 


44 


eaten  ;  and  of  the  terrible  tobacco  that  they 
had  smoked,  and  of  whisky  that  they  had 
drank,  to  say  nothing  of  the  tallow  dip  and 
kerosene  lamp  covered  with  a  conglomeration 
of  oil,  tobacco  juice,  and  singed  bugs,  which 
added  its  quota  of  soot  and  gas — were  it  pos- 
sible to  gather  all  this  together  and  print  it, 
this  little  sketch,  which  modestly  hopes  to  rob 
a  few  very  ugly  facts  of  the  comely  cloaks 
with  which  ignorant  enthusiasm  and  perhaps 
sectional  prejudice  have  clothed  them,  would 
need  no  other  advertisement.  The  scent  of  it 
would  guide  the  stranger  even  through  the 
bewildering  twists  and  turns  of  Boston's 
thoroughfares  to  its  whereabouts.  And  if 
some  of  the  good  people  of  Boston  are  in- 
clined to  turn  their  noses,  which  I  am  proud 
to  say  are  delicate  and  refined,  because  they 
are  American  noses,  altogether  away  from 
this  literal  description,  how  would  they  wel- 
come the  reality?  How  would  they,  or  the  peo- 
ple of  Concord  or  Evanston,  or  of  any  of  our 


45 


aesthetic  and  philanthropic  nests,  who  say  a 
good  many  just  and  unjust  things  about  the 
rights  of  the  blacks — how  would  they  like  it 
if  a  veritable  Beale  Street  were  to  drag  its 
slimy  length  through  the  centre  of  their  fair 
towns  ? 

For  this  slop-shop  was  situated  about  the 
centre  of  Beale  Street,  and  it  was  no  exception 
to  the  many  blocks  of  establishments  on  both 
sides  of  it.  And  how  would  they  like  it  if  the 
inhabitants  of  this  street,  not  contented  to 
make  good  wages  and  to  send  their  children 
to  school,  and  with  having  churches  until  a 
quiet  neighborhood  could  find  no  rest,  should 
rise  up  in  their  ignorance  and  strength  of 
numbers,  and  attempt  to  rule  ?  My  impres- 
sion is  that  they  would  do  as  the  city  of 
Memphis  and  the  South  is  sometimes  obliged 
to  do. 

Jock  was  unusually  merry  as  he  stood  by 
the  counter  to-night,  but  his  companion  Nich- 
olas Blood  was  unusually  morose.  They  had 


not  come  in  together  but  at  about  the  same 
time,  and  were  both  waiting  for  their  supper. 
Jock,  with  one  leg  bent  forward  until  the 
knee  touched  the  boards  in  front  of  him 
and  the  other  stretched  straight  out  behind, 
leaned  heavily  upon  the  counter,  bearing  his 
entire  weight  upon  arms  and  stomach,  and 
observed  the  Chinaman's  work.  A  greedy 
appetite  intensified  his  gaze. 

The  Chinaman  took  first  a  loaf  of  bread  in  his 
hand  and  pressed  it  closely  to  his  perspiring 
bosom.  He  cut  a  thick  slice  from  the  loaf, 
and  turning,  selected  from  the  shelf  a  gener- 
ous piece  of  liver,  which  he  daubed  with  mus- 
tard; a  slice  of  bacon,  which  he  placed  on  the 
liver  and  covered  with  mustard,  and  a  fried 
egg  as  big  and  as  solid  as  a  pancake,  with 
which  he  covered  the  bacon.  Sprinkling  the 
whole  with  more  mustard,  he  added  another 
thick  slice  of  bread  and  handed  it  all  to 
Jock,  for  which  he  received  five  cents  in 
exchange. 


47 


Nicholas  Blood,  while  waiting  for  the  Ce» 
lestial  to  perform  a  like  office  for  him,  stood 
stiff  upon  both  legs  a  few  inches  from  the 
counter  with  his  hands  thrust  into  his  trou- 
sers pockets,  his  hat  pulled  over  his  forehead, 
and  his  eyes  fixed  moodily  upon  the  floor. 

When  Jock  had  satisfied,  by  a  few  prodig- 
ious mouthfuls,  the  greater  part  of  his  appe- 
tite, he  began  to  notice  the  ill-nature  of  his 
neighbor,  and  became  uncomfortable  as  he 
caught  from  time  to  time  a  malignant  glance 
shot  from  beneath  his  scowling  brows.  Jock 
suddenly  felt  that  this  man,  standing  so  mo- 
tionless by  his  side,  was  busy  hating  him. 
The  feeling  increased  until  he  became  uneasy. 
He  did  not  know  what  to  do  or  say,  for  though 
Jock  was  one  of  the  most  fearless  among  the 
negroes,  the  moods  of  Nicholas  Blood  were 
formidable.  They  could  not  be  handled  lightly. 

Suddenly  four  other  darkies  entered  from 
the  street  and  filled  the  small  room  with  their 
uproar  and  noisy  demands  for  food. 


"  Heah  dar,  yo'  damned  yellow-skinned  nig- 
ger wid  tail  to\v  yo'  head,  toss  ova'  dat  yer 
grub.  Hello,  Blood  !  reckon  yo'  all's  perme- 
gatin'  heaps  o'  'scitement  fo'  dis  yeah  ebenin'; 
reckon  yo's  goin'  to  make  things  climb  about 
a  bit  fo'  morn',  hain'  you  ?" 

Nicholas  Blood  lifted  his  head  a  trifle  and 
fixing  a  sullen  glare  not  at  any  one  but 
straight  in  front  of  him,  said,  making  the 
most  of  his  heavy  voice  : 

"I  don'  talk  politics  befo'  traitors." 

Jock  felt  the  thrust.  He  arrested  his  hand 
within  a  few  inches  of  his  open  mouth,  and 
facing  about  quickly,  exclaimed  : 

"Who  do's  you  call  traitor  heah  ?" 

Nicholas  Blood  lifted  his  huge  head  a 
trifle  more,  and  fixing  his  eyes  upon  him, 
answered: 

"You." 

Jock  threw  the  sandwich  that  he  held 
fiercely  at  his  head,  and  the  missile  taking 
effect  covered  the  enormous  lips  of  his 


49 


accuser  with  bread  crumbs,  meat,  and  mus- 
tard. * 

"  We'll  settle  this  yeah  when  'lection's 
ovah,"  said  Old  Nick,  hoarsely,  his  eyes 
glowing  like  subdued  coals. 

"  I  reckon  we'll  jes'  settle  it  now,"  answered 
Jock,  coming  nearer,  but  he  stopped  after  the 
first  step.  Old  Nick  had  slipped  one  hand 
into  his  hip  pocket  and  Jock  had  no  razor 
with  him. 

''  Reckon  yo'll  stop  to  recompitulate  fo?  yo' 
disturb  Old  Nick,"  laughed  one  burly  negro 
among  the  crowd,  as  though  boasting  of  his 
own  valor. 

By  this  time  the  room  was  packed  and  soon  all 
memory  of  the  quarrel  was  drowned,  so  far  as 
Jock  was  concerned,  in  his  liberal  draughts  of 
beer.  When  all  were  through  eating  and  some 
fresh  excitement  was  necessary,  the  dice  were 
called  for.  Jock  was  the  first  to  shake.  He  won, 
then  lost,  then  won  again.  He  thought  himself 


rich,  in  reality  he  was  poorer  than  at  first  ;  but 
he  was  too  drunk  to  notice  it  and  too  much 
excited  to  care. 

"  Hyars  to  you  all,''  he  cried,  lifting  a  pot 
of  beer  above  his  head,  as  he  made  way  for 
others  to  reach  the  dice-box. 

"I  drink  dis  yeah  to  everybody. " 
As  he  waved  the  pot  he  spilled  some  of  the 
contents  down  the  neck  of  a  neighbor.  This 
fellow  had  lost  at  dice  and  was  at  once  furious. 
With  an  oath  he  turned  quickly,  and  knocking 
the  pot  from  Jock's  hand,  sent  it  spinning  over 
the  counter  and  upon  the  shelf  of  meat.  The 
Chinaman  received  the  contents.  He  looked 
fora  moment  in  astonishment  at  his  drenched 
shirt  and  wiped  his  face.  A  few  moments 
after  he  burst  forth  with  a  high, thin  voice  into 
a  tirade  of  vehement  but  unintelligible  swear- 
ing. No  one  noticed  him  and  after  a  while  he 
stopped.  Jock  looked  ruefully  at  the  moist 
neck  of  the  man  near  him  who  was  again  ea- 
gerly watching  the  dice.  After  a  moment  he 


put  his  hand  upon  his  shoulder  and  turned 
him  around. 

"  Br'er,  I's  pow'fu'  sorry  fo'  having" 

"  You  go'  the  debbil,"  shouted  the  other, 
angrily,  as  he  jerked  his  shoulder  about. 

Jock  hesitated  a  moment,  as  if  he  would 
speak  again,  and  then,  muttering  stupidly  to 
himself,  walked  somewhat  unsteadily  out  of 
the  shop. 

As  he  stepped  into  the  street  it  was  already 
crowded.  A  bewildering  mass  of  black  faces 
shining  in  the  gas-light,  as  it  oozed  through 
the  doorways,  surged  back  and  forth  like  a 
tide,  strong  and  turbulent  but  not  swift,  be- 
cause of  its  loitering  pools  and  eddies.  It  was 
too  early  yet  for  much  drunkenness,  and  the 
mob  was  a  good-natured  one.  The  sound  that 
rose  from  this  quarter  at  all  times  swept  it  like 
gusts  of  wind  swallowed  up  by  the  rumbling 
of  wagons  and  the  noise  of  a  higher  civiliza- 
tion on  Main  Street.  It  died  away  among 
the  chimneys  and  pillared  porches  and  garden 


plots  of  fine  residences  which  rise  abruptly  at 
its  foot.  Sometimes  the  people  living  here 
listen  to  this  and  shake  their  heads,  and 
prophesy  the  coming  of  a  storm  Every  one 
of  these  black  faces,  full  of  brutal  impulses  and 
coarse  desires,  belongs  to  a  problem  already 
grown  too  great  and  terrible  to  solve.  Every 
year  adds  startling  figures  to  the  sum.  God 
only  knows  how  fast  these  creatures  multiply. 


53 


VII. 

Nor  far  from  this  tumult,  but  in  a  much 
more  respectable  quarter,  lived  Philander  Mat- 
thews, the  philanthropist.  From  time  to  time 
he  approached  the  window  of  his  study  and 
looked  dreamily  upon  the  world  below.  He 
was  alone  ;  his  slight  figure  moved  pensively 
about,  and  the  delicate  fingers  of  his  hands, 
clasped  behind  him,  twisted  around  each 
other  constantly,  as  though  vainly  endeavor- 
ing to  undo  their  hopeless  entanglement.  The 


54 


top  of  his  head  was  slightly  bald,  but  from  the 
temples  and  down  the  back  hung  a  mass  of 
silken  white  hair.  The  face  was  that  of  a  be- 
nevolent enthusiast,  the  lower  part  was  effem- 
inate. Large  wrinkles  in  his  cheeks  and  in 
the  corners  of  his  mouth  created  the  appear- 
ance of  an  habitual  smile.  Blue  eyes,  small 
and  restless,  looked  at  you  from  beneath  a 
large  forehead,  as  though  you  were  the  cre- 
ation of  a  dream.  In  every  available  portion 
of  the  room  were  books  and  magazines.  Loose 
papers  were  lying  everywhere.  A  student- 
lamp  stood  in  the  centre  of  a  table  at  one  side, 
and  surrounding  it  were  open  books,  disor- 
dered manuscript,  a  few  journals,  and,  more 
conspicuous  than  all,  a  long,  narrow  slip  of 
paper  with  a  column  of  printed  names  upon 
it.  Presently,  with  the  abstraction  peculiar  to 
him,  he  turned  about,  took  up  this  slip  and 
dropped  into  the  easy  chair  pushed  close  to  the 
table.  An  hour  of  absolute  silence  passed, 
broken  in  upon  at  last  by  a  peremptory  knock- 


55 


ing  at  his  door.  He  did  not  move.  The  knock 
was  not  repeated,  but  the  door  flying  open  re- 
vealed, standing  on  the  threshold,  a  little 
weazen-faced  old  woman,  all  bones  and  veins 
and  cords  and  skin,  with  a  lace  cap  stuck  awry 
upon  her  head,  and  enormous  puffs  hiding  her 
shriveled-up  ears. 

"  Philander  !"  she  shrieked  at  the  top  of  her 
voice,  as  soon  as  her  crow-like  eyes  spied  him 
out.  The  old  man  drew  himself  from  the 
depths  of  his  chair  and,  turning  his  head,  en- 
deavored vainly  to  concentrate  his  vision  upon 
her.  He  could  see  a  dream,  but  the  realities 
of  this  life  were  beyond  him.  "  Judge  Rector, 
to  see  you,"  she  remarked,  and  thereupon  en- 
tered the  tall  figure  of  the  Judge,  and  a  little 
after  him  that  of  Thomas  Judd. 

"As  I  was  saying,"  b^gan  Philander  Mat- 
thews to  his  guest,  not  at  first  perceiving  that 
there  were  two,  and  without  otherwise  notic- 
ing him  he  proceeded  to  pace  up  and  down 
the  room.  "Fifty  years  from  now" — he 


stopped  and  standing  quietly  in  the  middle 
of  the  floor  contemplated  in  silence  the  pict- 
ure of  that  time. 

The  Judge  smiled,  as  he  perceived  that  this 
remark  was  the  continuation  of  their  last  con- 
versation of  two  months  ago. 

"  Mr.  Matthews,  I  have  a  friend  with  me 
from  Michigan,  Mr.  Thomas  Judd." 

Judd  took  in  his  vigorous  grip  the  slight 
fingers  of  the  great  philanthropist. 

The  old  gentleman  looked  at  him  with  a 
pleased  smile  and  answered  as  best  he  could 
the  warm  pressure  of  the  hand.  His  child- 
hood and  the  greater  portion  of  his  life  had 
been  surrounded  by  the  solemnity  of  the  pine, 
and  everything  about  this  man  reminded  him 
of  their  spicy  odor,  the  roaring  of  the  wind, 
the  washing  of  the  lake,  and  the  invigorating 
nipping  of  the  frost. 

"  Michigan  ?"  he  murmured  softly,  still  hold- 
ing the  stranger's  hand.  "That  was  my 
birthplace,  sir." 


57 


"Yes,"  the  other  answered,  earnestly  ;  "we 
are  all  proud  of  you  up  there." 

When  the  three  were  seated,  the  Judge  said, 

"  Mr.  Matthews,  I  came  to  ask  you  what  you 
think  of  the  present  situation." 

"  The  negroes  are  doing  well,"  answered  the 
old  man,  rising  and  continuing  to  walk  the 
floor. 

"  Do  you  know  who  this  Nicholas  Blood  is, 
Mr.  Matthews?"  asked  the  Judge,  glancing 
with  aversion  at  the  narrow  slip  and  looking 
sharply  up. 

"  Nicholas  Blood  ?  Certainly  I  do;  he  is  the 
negro  candidate." 

"  Yes,  but  do  you  know  him  ?" 

"I  have  met  him  once." 

"What  is  he  like?" 

"He"— 

The  old  man  paused  and  looked  vacantly 
before  him  as  though  trying  to  recall. 

"  I  do  not  remember  how  he  looked.  They 
sny — that  is  " — he  continued,  as  though  speak- 


ing  to  himself — "  he  has  great  power  among 
his  people." 

"Sir,"  said  the  Judge,  slowly,  "your  action 
in  these  times  is  not  only  a  grave  mistake,  but 
it  is  criminal." 

Philander  Matthews  turrted  quickly  and 
cried,  passionately,  "Who  are  you, to  judge?" 

A  bright  light  shone  in  his  blue  eyes.  The 
Judge  rose  and  sternly  confronted  him. 

"  I  am  nothing  greater  than  a  common  man, 
but  I  condemn  your  theories  from  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  facts.  You  are  even  ignorant  of 
the  man  whose  fierce  ambitions  you  sup- 
port. You  are  equally  ignorant  in  reality 
of  all  his  race.  Listen  to  that  distant 
noise." 

"  I  hear  it;   they  are  a  happy  people." 

The  Judge,  with  a  look  of  weariness,  turned 
away. 

;'  Happy,  although  bitterly  abused;  but  they 
will  gain  their  rights.  Within  fifty  years  they 
will  be  numerous  enough  to  rule." 


59 


''Great  God  !"  exclaimed  the  Judge,  turn- 
ing to  look  in  uncontrolled  amazement  al  the 
speaker.  "That  is  the  horrible  truth,  bui 
how  will  they  rule  ?  They  should  not  even 
vote  before  that  time.  It  is  contrary  to  alJ 
nature  that  they  should  even  dwell  among 
us." 

Philander  Matthews  straightened  his  slight 
figure  to  its  full  height  as  he  replied,  his 
whole  frame  trembling  with  excitement: 

"  It  is  the  will  of  God;  this  is  your  punish- 
ment. Why  did  you  bring  them  here  ?" 

"What!"  interrupted  the  other,  stooping 
forward  as  he  spoke.  "  Do  you  hold  us  re- 
sponsible for  the  avarice  of  a  few  piratical 
slave-dealers  of  two  hundred  years  ago?" 

"You  were  a  slave-holder." 

"And  what  of  that?  Do  you  call  it  sin  to 
follow  blindly  the  teachings  of  the  past  and 
present  customs,  when  there  is  no  thought  of 
wrong?  That  was  a  stage  in  the  progress  of 


6o 


the  world.  We  were  in  it  then.  It  was  no  sin. 
The  light  has  dawned.  We  acknowledge  the 
error  of  that  way,  but  before  the  world  I  insist, 
sir,  that  we  have  not  found  a  better  one.  The 
error  lies  in  this — that  they  are  here.  There 
cannot  be  equal  rights,  in  this  age  of  intellect- 
ual mastery,  where  there  is  unequal  ability. 
There  cannot  be  harmonious  action  between 
such  uncongeniality.  Our  natures,  tastes,  and 
aspirations  are  all  different.  Who  can  fancy 
that  we  can  live  like  brothers  ? " 

"Educate  them,"  the  other  said. 

"  That  will  not  help  us  out.  Even  if  by 
years  of  patience  they  become  wise  and  good 
laborers,  our  social  state  will  not  be  improved. 
They  are  the  children  of  a  race  of  savages 
with  a  barbarous  pedigree  since  the  days  of 
Ham.  We  are  civilization.  Yet,  by  mere 
force  of  numbers,  they  rival  us  for  the  right 
to  shape  the  destinies  of  this  nation.  The 
future  of  the  world's  progress  is  at  stake  ;  do 
you  realize  that  ?" 


6 1 


"You  are  quite  right,  sir  ;  it  is  a  punishment 
upon  us.  The  negro  must  have  his  due." 

Saying  this,  Philander  Matthews  dropped 
wearily  into  his  great  chair  and  closed  his 
eyes. 

"  It  is  not  a  question  of  his  dues,  it  is  a 
question  of  political  economy." 

The  Judge  let  his  glance  rest  for  a  moment 
on  Philander  Matthews,  until,  drawn  by  a 
greater  magnetism,  he  turned  his  head  slight- 
ly and  looked  steadily  into  the  eyes  of 
Thomas  Judd. 

"That  is  the  seat  of  the  misunderstanding. 
I  would  not  advocate  the  discontinuance  of 
one  good  thing  now  done  for  them.  We 
should  do  vastly  more.  The  question  is  this: 
How  best  to  advance  the  interests  of  the  hu- 
man race  ;  how  best  to  further  the  ultimate 
perfection  of  civilization  ;  how  best  to  con- 
struct our  Government?  This  is  the  problem, 
and  not  simply  what  is  the  negro's  due.  As 
they  increase  their  numbers  by  millions, 


62 


will  it  be  possible  for  two  distinct  races,  which 
must  always  remain  as  distinct  as  black  and 
white,  to  live  together  on  the  same  soil,  and 
build  together  a  commonwealth  1" 

Thomas  Judd  gazed  steadfastly  into  the 
speaker's  face  and  was  silent.  Fora  moment 
he  was  lost  in  wonder  at  a  new  world  sudden- 
ly revealed  to  him.  Then  a  multitude  of  ques- 
tions flung  themselves  tumultuously  to  his  lips. 
He  kept  them  closed,  however.  Here  was  the 
great  philanthropist,  with  his  beautiful  head 
bowed  low  upon  his  hands.  Why  did  he  not 
speak  ? 

"  I  believe  it  possible,"  came  from  his  deli- 
cate lips  after  a  long  silence.  "A  little  time; 
only  a  little  time,  dear  sir.  Education  will 
join  their  hands.  Look,"  he  continued,  point- 
ing to  a  crayon  portrait  above  the  fireplace. 
"  See  in  that  face  the  possibilities  of  the  negro. 
Was  not  Frederick  Douglass  a  co-laborer  with 
Lincoln  and  the  abolitionists  for  the  progress 
of  the  world  ?  Ah  !  they  are,  indeed,  men  as 


we  are,  they  are  indeed.  You  do  not  appre- 
ciate them,  Judge.  There  is  the  clerk  of  your 
own  court,  and  Don  Pedro,  as  he  is  called." 

"  What  hotel  do  you  stop  at,  Mr.  Judd  ?" 

"The  Peabody." 

"  He  is  head  waiter  at  your  hotel.  These 
three  I  can  think  of  at  once.  May  not  in  time 
the  great  majority  of  negroes  become  like 
these  ?  We  have  many  bright  children  in  our 
colored  schools." 

"They  may,"  replied  the  Judge,  with  a  rare 
smile  and  momentary  twinkle  in  his  eye,  as  he 
turned  toward  Mr.  Judd,  "if  our  northern 
friends  will  take  these  black  wenches  for  their 
wives." 

Philander  Matthews  bowed  his  head,  and  a 
deep  sigh  followed  upon  the  heels  of  his  con- 
tented smile. 

"  These  fine  specimens  whom  you  have  men- 
tioned are  the  result  of  the  saddest  of  all  the 
crimes  of  slavery.  For  you  must  know,  Tom, 
that  all  these  three  are  half-breeds,  and  in  the 


64 


case  of  Douglas,  almost  white.  The  clerk  of 
the  court  is  the  son  of " 

Judd  startled  at  so  great  a  name. 

"And  the  head  waiter  comes  from  our  rarest 
southern  stock.  As  for  the  children  in  the 
colored  schools,  there  are  few  of  them  more 
than  half  negro.  If,"  he  continued,  rising, 
"  we  respect  the  marriage  law,  it  will  take  a 
thousand  years  to  reduce  the  thickness  of  their 
sensual  lips,  tone  down  their  brutal  necks, 
destroy  their  odor,  and  transform  the  ani- 
mal into  a  being  of  refinement  and  lofty 
aims.  But  Mr.  Matthews,  I  must  go.  I  came 
to  ask  you  to  cease  agitation  at  this  time,  be- 
cause I  believe  that  within  a  week  we  shall 
have  reached  a  crisis  in  this  race  question  and 
there  will  certainly  be  bloodshed." 

Philander  Matthews  shook  his  head. 

"  You  exaggerate.  They  are  a  good-na- 
tured and  long-suffering  race." 

All  three  arose.  Mr.  Judd  said,  extending 
his  hand: 


"  I  am  glad  to  have  met  you.  I  have  heard 
of  you  for  years." 

"Yes/'  said  the  Judge,  rather  sadly,  "this 
great  and  good  man  has  been  a  brave  soldier 
in  a  long,  long  fight.  Now,"  he  continued, 
as  they  left  the  house,  uwe  will  visit  Beal 
street." 


66 


VIII. 

BEAL  STREET  at  night.  To  what  can  it  be 
likened.  There  are  many  similar  ones  in  the 
South,  but  nowhere  else.  The  shops  are  kept 
by  the  avaricious,  the  shrewd  and  brutal  of 
every  race.  Those  who  pass  in  and  out  are 
all  black.  Observe  this  noisy  multitude  of 
men  and  women  that  pack  the  walk,  that 
jostle  and  joke  each  other  at  every  step,  that 
gossip  at  every  shop  door,  that  stop  to  quar- 
rel or  dance  their  rythmical  shuffle  at  every 


corner.  The  prevailing  sound  is  that  of  hila- 
rious merriment.  If  heard  at  a  distance  it 
would  sound  like  the  musical  jubilee  of  a 
happy  race.  It  is  composed  of  obscenity,  a 
merry  laughter  of  oaths,  threats,  drunken 
revelry  and  the  exchange  of  ribald  courtesies. 
These  people  seldom  think.  They  are  like 
sensuous  and  unclean  barbarians  tricked  up 
in  borrowed  clothes,  who  play  for  pastime 
at  civilization. 

In  almost  every  shop  were  games  of  chance, 
surrounded  by  as  many  as  could  play  or 
watch.  In  every  unoccupied  niche  along  the 
street  were  wheels  of  fortune.  By  the  side 
of  one  of  these  the  two  men  pushed  their  way. 
There  was  the  rude  table  with  the  top  four  feet 
square.  Upon  this,  nails  were  driven  two 
inches  apart  so  as  to  form  a  circle  three  feet 
in  diameter.  Between  these  nails  were  the 
objects  to  be  won.  There  were  three  cigars 
in  each  space,  or  a  slip  of  paper  calling  for  a 
box  of  them,  or  a  ham,  or  a  long  string  of 


68 


bananas  hanging  in  the  greedy  sight  of  all 
from  a  pole  fastened  to  one  side  of  the  table. 
In  the  centre  of  this  circle  was  a  pivot,  on 
which  turned  easily  an  iron  dart  pointed 
with  a  slip  of  paper  that  feathered  the  nails 
as  it  passed.  At  the  side  opposite  the  banana 
stem  rose  an  iron  pipe,  at  the  end  of  which 
the  light  of  a  sputtering  gas  jet  fell  in  a 
slouchy  fashion  about  those  bending  silently 
and  with  bated  breath  above  the  table,  and 
shone  in  the  faces  peering  eagerly  over  the 
shoulders  of  those  in  front  of  them.  He  who 
presided  over  the  fortunes  of  these  people 
was  a  ruffian.  The  hat  pushed  on  the  back 
of  his  head  revealed  a  dirty  bald  spot  sur- 
rounded by  close  cut  hair.  This  hat  was  once 
a  dark  derby,  but  was  now  sadly  battered 
and  of  that  faded  brown  color  peculiar  to  the 
head-gear  of  the  slums.  He  wore  a  thick 
mustache  that  dripped  with  tobacco  juice  and 
beer.  His  red,  swollen  face  confessed  to  every 
dissipation.  A  pair  of  hard,,  bad  eyes  peered 


from  flabby  lids  at  those  about  him  as  he 
broke  the  momentary  lulls  in  business  with: 

"Come  up — come  up — thain't  no  blanks; 
yer  boun'  to  drop  some  thing,  and  maybe 
pull  a  ham — ten  cents  a  slide.  Take  a 
turn." 

But  when  some  black  hand  ventured,  with 
trembling  hesitation,  another  and  possibly  a 
last  dime,  and  turned  feverishly  the  iron  dart, 
he  watched  only  it.  After  the  first  payment 
of  ten  cents  the  fortune  seeker,  by  forfeiting 
his  three  cigars,  might  continue  to  try  al  five 
cents  a  venture  for  the  larger  prizes  as  long 
as  he  wished.  When  some  fresh  hand  took 
hold,  great  merriment  was  created  by  his  jokes 
and  the  flourish  with  which  he  spun  the  rod. 
The  slip  of  paper,  as  it  swiftly  brushed  the 
nails,  was  bombarded  with  a  multitude  of 
directions  where  to  stop,  until  its  progress 
grew  slow,  and  the  flagging  tip  hesitated 
upon  every  nail.  It  was  pitiful  to  hear  the 
long  sigh  that  slipped  from  every  breast  as 


the  quivering-  paper  came  to  a  final  stop  so 
close,  and  to  see  the  big  white  and  black  eyes 
fixed  in  wistful  reproach  at  the  coveted  object 
it  had  missed.  The  interest  at  this  particu- 
lar table  had  been  kept  at  a  high  pitch  for 
some  time  past  by  the  persistency  and  dogged 
patience  of  a  certain  old  man,  who  had  turned 
for  fifty  times  without  a  moment's  pause  to 
no  other  purpose  than  three  cigars.  Each  time 
he  had  not  even  waited  to  refuse  this  prize, 
but  dropping  another  nickel  on  the  board,  had 
turned  again.  All  this  while  he  had  never 
spoken.  But  the  crowd,  who  seemed  even 
more  anxious  than  himself,  constantly  encour- 
aged him  at  every  new  turn  with  assurances 
that — u  She  done  stop  on  ole  ham  dis  time 
sho,"  then  with  scattering  prayers  for  it  to 
u  Touch  a  ham,"  "  Touch  a  ham,"  they  settled 
down  to  watch. 

For  the  fifty-second  time  the  old  man 
dropped  his  nickel  and  touched  the  rod.  There 
was  a  beseeching  light  in  his  feeble  eyes.  His 


hand  trembled  a  little  as  he  reached  forth. 
He  turned  it  gently  with  a  lingering  touch  as 
though  not  willing  to  part  with  it.  He  leaned 
forward  as  he  let  it  go.  As  its  pace  slackened 
he  bent  nearer  still,  glaring  at  it  until  his  dim 
eyes  grew  bright.  All  were  as  silent  and  as 
motionless  as  though  cut  in  stone.  One  more 
nail  and  it  would  reach  the  ham.  His  face 
and  body  contracted  as  it  hung  for  a  mo- 
ment to  this  impediment. 

He  reached  out  with  trembling  hands  and 
muttered  hoarsely  as  it  hung  quivering  in  the 
open  space. 

"  My  Lo'd,"  he  groaned,  as  it  passed  be- 
yond. He  turned  away.  After  this,  no  one 
wished  to  venture.  All  hung  back,  and  even 
the  sport's  oratory  was  in  vain. 

"I'll  turn  for  you,"  he  said  at  last. 

"  No  ?  Then  here,  you  turn — here,  I  say, 
you  damned  fool,  just  turn  for  the  fun  of  it. 
Tain't  going  to  cost  you  nothing  That's  right 
— now  who  goes  in  ?  Anybody  in  on  this  ? 


You'd  better;  he  knows  how  to  turn — look  at 
that — O,  no,  my  fly  huckleberry,  it's  too  late 
now — watch  where  she  stops — a  ham." 

Sure  enough,  it  had  stopped  upon  a  ham. 

*'  One  more  turn  and  he'd  a  cotched  it," 
murmured  the  crowd,  regretfully. 

With  a  great  bluster  of  bragging,  Jock 
pushed  through  the  crowd  in  front  of  him  and 
reached  the  table.  He  threw  down  a  silver 
dollar,  that  fell  with  a  merry  ring,  and  asked 
for  change. 

"  Now,  gm'n,"  he  said,  rolling  his  head,  and 
showing  the  whites  of  his  eyes  in  an  impress- 
ive manner,  "  reckon  yo'  all's  gwine  ta  see 
sumpin  drap." 

The  faces  surrounding  him  became  quickly 
animated  with  a  broad  grin  of  expectancy. 

"  Now,  you,  sari,"  he  continued,  giving  his 
head  a  sudden  shake  and  settling  his  chin 
sidewise  upon  his  expansive  chest,  .while  his 
gaze,  solemn  and  staring  like  that  of  an 
owl's  in  broad  sunlight,  fixed  itself  upon  the 


73 


sport,  "  Now,  you,  sah,  jes'  be'er  keep  yo* 
occulations  glued  mighty  sha'p  to  dat  yah 
ham.  I's  boun'  to  hit  him  dis  tahme  sho'." 

"  Well,  hit  away  and  don't  talk  so  much," 
shouted  the  sport,  roughly  glaring  at  him  as 
though  to  knock  him  down. 

Jock  met  his  eyes  without  the  motion  of  a 
muscle  for  a  moment,  and  then  all  at  once 
doubled  up  his  stomach,  and  with  great  wag- 
gings  of  head,  gave  himself  up  to  that  in- 
describable laugh  peculiar  to  his  kind,  which 
consists  mainly  in  the  contortions  of  the  face 
and  a  few  minor,  musical  sounds  ending  in  a 
prolonged  whoop.  He  remained  so  long  in 
this  convulsed  state,  that  the  sport,  out  of  all 
patience  with  him,  half  rose  from  his  seat  and 
bawled  : 

"  Get  out  of  this,  you  damned  hell-hound, 
and  let  some  one  else  have  a  chance." 

Jock  straightened  himself  up  at  this,  and, 
looking  at  him  in  solemn  reproach,  half  in 
melancholy,  half  in  pity,  said: 


74 


"  'Peers  to  me  as  yo's  mahty  hurried, 
but  da's  all  right,  boss;  I  don7  bear  no  ill- 
will/' 

He  took  the  little  dart  in  his  great  fingers. 

"Now,  yeers  fo*  da'  ham;  keep  yo'  eye  on 
de  paper,  boss.  I's  bleeged  to  fetch  dat  juicy 
ham." 

Away  flew  the  paper  around  the  ring  of 
nails,  while  all  the  dusky  faces  nearer  bent  to 
urge  it  on  or  tell  it  where  to  stop,  as  though 
it  lived. 

"  Three  cigars." 

Another  spin,  and 

"  Three  cigars." 

Yet  again,  still 

"  Three  cigars." 

But  such  a  thing  is  hope  and  confidence 
that  better  luck  must  come  at  last,  that  once 
and  time  and  time  again  he  sent  the  paper  on 
its  thrilling  quest,  and  felt  his  heart  grow  big 
and  fingers  twitch,  as  it  brought  him  always 

"  Three  cigars." 


75 


One  dollar  went,  and  then  in  order  not  to 
waste  so  much,  he  tossed  another  after  it.  A 
third  he  spent  with  hesitation,  lingering  in 
doubt  upon  each  little  piece.  When  this  was 
gone,  he  stopped. 

"  Well,  are  you  in  ?  "  cried  the  harsh  and 
taunting  voice  of  the  man  who  was  watching 
him. 

He  broke  another  dollar,  and  once  again, 
while  fright  and  eagerness  and  hope  toyed 
with  the  muscles  of  his  face,  he  grasped  the 
iron  and  sent  it  cautiously  about  the  ring. 
He  did  not  even  listen  as  the  man  called, 

"  Three  cigars." 

He  knew  what  the  trouble  was.  He  had 
not  turned  quite  hard  enough — that  was  all — 

"  Close — mahty  close." 

"  Three  cigars/' 

Every  one  fell  back  with  exclamations  of  ex- 
citement and  regret.  He  seized  the  rod  again 
and  threw  it  from  him  savagely.  The  paper 
whistled  as  it  ticked  the  nails,  but  Jock,  not 


waiting  to  pay  for  this  turn  nor  to  see  the  re- 
sult, walked  off  tossing  into  the  crowd  his 
three  cigars. 

"  Anybody  want  this  whirl  ?"  asked  the 
sport.  Some  one  dropped  a  dime,  and  an- 
swered : 

"  Reckon  I'll  take  dat,  boss." 

It  stopped  upon  a  ham. 

A  ripple  of  surprise  passed  through  all 
those  about,  and  half  a  dozen  stepped  forward 
for  a  chance. 

Underneath  each  of  the  piles  of  cigar  boxes 
on  which  the  sport  leaned  his  elbows  was  an 
electric  button,  by  which  he  controlled  the 
movements  of  the  rod.  Those  who  won  were 
cappers. 

"That  is  terrible,"  said  Thomas  Judd,  as 
they  moved  away,  "  they  are  gambling  every- 
where." 

"  It  is  the  negro's  life.  Let  me  tell  you  this, 
Tom,  there  is  a  future  to  this  question.  Now 
that  the  bondage  has  been  removed,  these 


77 


people  are  giving  the  loose  rein  to  their  natu- 
ral instincts  of  unrest.  The  children  of  the 
next  generation  will  be  always  roving  from 
place  to  place.  Having  no  lofty  purpose, 
they  think  only  of  excitement  and  their 
appetites. 

"  The  negro  of  to-day  is  a  different  being 
from  the  old-time  plantation  type.  These  that 
you  see  are  metropolitan  negroes.  Constant 
agitation  for  political  ends,  an  unaccustomed 
notoriety  and  plenty  of  money,  for  they  re- 
ceive large  wages,  has  turned  their  heads. 
But  what  is  this  ?" 

In  front  of  the  market  near  where  they 
stood  was  a  great  crowd.  Upon  a  dry  goods 
box  in  the  centre  stood  a  tall  white  man  with 
head  uncovered,  who  was  addressing  them. 
Long,  black  hair  fell  upon  his  shoulders.  The 
tapering  ends  of  a  fierce  mustache  protruded 
far  beyond  his  hollow  cheeks.  Restless  eyes 
flashed  from  sunken  sockets.  His  voice  had 
the  ring  of  steel.  As  he  spoke,  he  electrified 


his  audience  by  the  sudden  motion  of  his  long 
arms. 

"  Vote  !  Vote !"  he  cried,  "  and  win  by 
your  ballots  that  which  it  is  your  right  to 
have.  The  unjust  slavery  of  two  hundred 
years  is  yours  to  avenge.  There  is  more 
gold  in  the  cellar  of  the  City  Hall  than 
this  crowd  can  carry — it  is  the  hoarded  wages 
of  those  years.  It  all  is  yours.  Why  do  you 
suffer  ?  Why  are  you  poor — why  do  you  do 
the  labor  of  these  thieves  ?  You  are  as  good 
as  they  and  nearly  as  many.  Vote,  I  say,  and 
if  your  ballots  are  not  counted  you  must  kill." 

This  discourse  suited  the  audience.  It  is 
pleasant  to  be  made  martyrs  of.  For  twenty 
years  these  people  have  been  taught  discon- 
tentment. They  believed  themselves  op- 
pressed, and  their  black  faces  grew  moody  as 
they  listened. 

As  the  two  men  were  pushing  closer  in  the 
crowd  the  Judge  stepped  upon  the  foot  of  a 
burly  black.  A  moment  before,  when  the 


79 


speaker  had  uttered  the  word  "  kill,"  this  man 
had  cried  out  with  a  hoarse  yell  : 

"  Kill  !  Kill  !" 

He  was  still  growling  fiercely  to  himself.  He 
turned  as  the  Judge  stepped  upon  his  foot,  and 
seeing  that  it  was  a  white  man,  spit  upon  his 
face.  He  snarled  and  was  about  to  follow  the 
insult  by  a  blow  when  Thomas  Judd  knocked 
him  down.  He  lay  unconscious  where  he  fell. 

"  A  white  man  has  killed  Sleuth  William- 
son," passed  from  mouth  to  mouth.  A  sinis- 
ter murmur  arose  from  the  crowd.  The  Judge, 
aware  of  the  danger,  said  in  a  low  voice, 
"Come  quickly,"  and  walked  a  few  steps  up 
the  street.  The  crowd  spread  out,  and  pressed 
about  them,  growing  more  hostile  and  noisy 
as  they  moved. 

"  Head  'em  off,"  was  shouted  from  behind. 
A  clump  of  dirt  broke  against  the  cheek  of 
Thomas  Judd. 

11  Ye,  ah!  Yah  !  ah,  dun  hit  'im.  Whoop  !" 
A  furious  oath  followed  this  cry. 


So 


It  would  be  necessary  to  run  or  face  the 
crowd.  The  two  men  were  deciding  which 
to  do,  when  suddenly  a  negro  stepped  from 
the  stairway  as  they  were  passing,  and  called 
savagely  for  the  rabble  to  stop.  They  at  once 
obeyed. 

"That  was  rather  unlocked  for,"  laughed 
Thomas  Judd,  as  they  hurried  on. 

"  They  are  easily  excited  these  days,"  an- 
swered the  Judge. 

It  was  Nicholas  Blood  who  had  stopped 
the  crowd.  He  said  to  them  : 

"  See  yah,  you  black  devils,  none  of  this 
'fo'  'lection  day.  After  that  yo'  time  '11  come." 

All  along  the  streets  excited  groups  were 
discussing  politics.  The  city  vote  next  week 
would  surely  be  a  dark  one. 

On  Hadon  avenue  was  another  and  a 
larger  gathering.  All  was  different  here.  It 
was  a  throng  of  merry-makers. 

The  majority  of  the  men  were  tipsy  ;  some 
were  quarrelsome.  The  women  not  less  so, 


Si 


laughed  and  swore  uproariously.  In  a  large, 
open  place,  a  great  revolving  swing,  such  as  is 
found  at  fairs  and  circuses,  each  of  its  twenty 
horses  laden  with  a  roaring  negro,  and  its 
coaches  carrying  those  too  drunk  to  ride, 
rushed  round  and  round,  stopping  every  few 
minutes  to  change  its  load  while  the  con- 
ductor bawled,  dizzy  darkies  stumbled  off, and 
others  scrambled  on.  Then  the  manager  put 
a  whistle  to  his  lips,  to  which  an  engine  in  the 
background  somewhere  shrieked  an  answer, 
and  off  again  went  the  "  merry-go-round/', 
while  a  broken-winded  hand  -  organ,  turned 
by  the  machinery  of  the  swing,  flung  over  all 
wild  and  disjointed  fragments  of  the  "  Fisher 
Maiden."  Were  one  a  benevolent  traveler, 
blessed  with  a  good  digestion,  taking  an  after- 
dinner  stroll  to  see  the  sights,  he  might  at  the 
distance  of  three  hundred  feet  have  thought 
this  a  pleasant  sound,  and  afterward  have 
said,  honestly  enough,  many  fine  things  about 
this  happy  race.  But  let  me  ask  you,  good 


82 


men  and  madams,  to  wear  overalls,  and  draw 
your  skirts  close  to  you  and  mingle  for  an 
hour  in  this  crowd. 

God  knows  that  I,  whose  home  has  always 
been  aired  by  the  winds  from  heaven,  shrink 
from  the  vulgarity  herein  described.  My 
pen  staggers,  and  will  not  write  these  oaths. 
This  sketch  is  not  furnished  as  a  pastime, 
nor  for  the  eyes  of  those  who  wish  to  shun 
rather  than  alleviate  the  evils  of  the  world. 
It  is  for  all  those  who  pass  judgment  on  the 
South.  If  surrounded  by  your  books  and 
paintings,  and  listening  day  by  day  to  gentle 
tongues,  you  close  your  ears  to  the  vile 
drippings  of  those  lips  that  seek  to  issue 
mandates  to  those  whom  you  condemn,  then 
in  the  name  of  justice  hold  your  peace,  and 
speak  only  of  those  things  you  are  willing  to 
investigate. 

There  were  two  hundred  voters  in  this  noisy 
crowd.  The  swing  was  always  full,  and  those 
around  it  waited  impatiently  their  turn. 


They  swarmed  upon  the  guy  ropes,  leaning 
against  them  because  too  drunk  to  stand 
alone,  and  filled  the  spaces  between  like 
great,  black  bees. 

A  little  way  from  the  majority  were  a 
group  of  boys  and  girls  spitting  tobacco- 
juice  at  a  crack.  Not  far  from  them,  lean- 
ing against  a  high  board  fence,  were  men 
and  women  suffering  already  the  sickness 
of  debauch.  In  the  centre  of  a  group,  a 
young  and  lusty  woman  with  skirts  held 
above  her  knees,  was  executing  a  shuffle 
in  competition  with  a  young  buck  of  her 
own  age. 

"  Yo'll  be  bleeged  to  shake  yo'  legs,  Snuffles, 
to  bust  that  yar  gal's  wind." 

"She  dun  got  shins  like  a  mule's." 

"  I  reckon  the's  a  right  smart  o'  good 
eatin'  on  them  calves,"  came  from  the 
crowd.  To  all  of  which  the  dancer  lifted 
her  dress  the  higher,  bent  her  back  the 
more,  set  her  teeth  the  tighter  and  rolled 


84 


her  eyes  and  raised  her  elbows  and  flopped 
her  knees  and  beat  her  heels  and  toes  and 
slid  upon  the  smooth  soles  of  her  shoes 
until  a  boundless  excitement  swelled  through 
the  crowd,  and  a  dozen  others  were  trying 
to  outdo  her. 

As  Jock  entered  this  great  throng  he  caught 
the  roving  glance  of  a  pair  of  wild,  bright 
eyes.  They  were  the  light  of  a  voluptuous 
face,  which  on  the  instant  lit  up  with  even 
a  greater  glow  and  came  toward  him.  It  was 
the  face  of  a  woman  not  yet  twenty.  Her 
form  was  rich  and  undulating  with  soft 
curves.  The  lips  were  bursting  with  sensual- 
ity; her  cheeks  were  plump  and  radiant.  As 
she  came  close  to  him,  she  threw  both  arms 
lightly  about  his  neck  and  kissed  him.  Her 
breath  was  laden  with  whisky;  her  laugh  was 
a  musical  gurgle  of  intoxication.  As  she  felt 
his  arms  about  her  she  leaned  heavily  in 
them,  her  head  fell  with  a  slight  roll  upon  his 
shoulder,  and  as  her  eyelids  drooped  so  as  to 


half  conceal  her  shining,  misty  eyes,  her  mouth 
parted  as  she  laughed  again.  She  led  him 
away  from  the  crowd  to  a  saloon  across  the 
street,  and  cajoled  him  with  caresses  into 
treating  her.  They  drank  until  there  was  no 
room  for  more,  and  with  some  difficulty 
recrossed  the  street.  In  each  other's  arms, 
this  boozy  couple  passed  through  the  crowd, 
and  waited  for  a  chance  to  swing.  All  about 
them  were  women  teasing  men  for  beer,  and 
men  asking  women  questions  too  vile  for 
repetition. 

The  horses  and  their  riders,  sweeping  past 
with  a  rush  and  roar  of  voices,  made  their 
reeling  heads  swim,  and  they  were  obliged 
constantly  to  hold  each  other  up.  At  last  the 
opportunity  arrived.  The  swing  had  stopped. 
They  endeavored  to  rush  forward  with  the 
rest,  but  starting  too  suddenly,  and  being, 
though  happy,  exceedingly  confused,  they 
lost  their  balance,  and  with  the  help  of  those 
jostling  about  them,  tumbled  both  together 


86 


on  the  ground.  When  the  swing  stopped  a 
second  time,  they  helped  each  other  up,  and 
with  great  labor  and  uproar  secured  seats. 

Off  they  went.  At  first  slowly,  then  with  a 
terrific  rush,  until  the  wind  was  a  tempest  in 
their  ears  and  the  people  below  appeared  like 
a  sea  of  spectres,  and  the  sound  of  their  shouts 
and  songs  and  laughter  came  to  them  like  the 
music  of  a  storm  on  winter  nights.  How  they 
stayed  on  is  a  mystery,  indeed.  They  rode  upon 
two  horses  side  by  side.  They  clung  to  each 
other  and  fell  upon  each  other's  knees.  They 
bawled  and  uttered,  as  though  singing  them, 
the  most  outlandish  sounds — big  words,  lines 
of  sacred  hymns,  plantation  melodies,  shouts 
to  Gabriel  and  the  Lord,  all  jumbled  to- 
gether, and  brought  out  with  all  the  force 
of  their  great  lungs,  and  with  all  the  fervor 
of  their  passionate,  uncontrolled  impulses, 
stirred  now  by  excitement  and  whisky  into 
a  hurricane.  This  is  no  exaggeration  of  the 
scene.  It  is  not  possible  to  present  it  viv- 


idly  enough.  One  should  dwell  within  the 
sound  of  it  to  understand. 

After  this  was  over,  and  they  were  once 
again  in  the  crowd,  the  woman,  lifting  her 
voluptuous  face  to  his,  murmured  thickly: 

"Come,  honey,  'long  home  wi'  me." 

With  brain  already  stupefied,  but  with 
nerves  on  fire,  Jock  went  with  her. 

A  few  moments  in  this  crowd  sufficed  for 
Mr.  Judd.  The  sights  and  sounds  and  odors 
sickened  him. 

u  Nothing  but  animals,"  he  said  to  the 
Judge,  with  a  shudder  of 'disgust,  as  the  two 
men  moved  away,  "  I  confess  that  personal 
contact  with  these  people  promises  to  change 
my  views  concerning  them.  I  shall  not  cease 
to  believe  that  we  owe  them  a  heavy  debt 
and  must  protect  their  rights,  but  I  should 
not  want  to  live  among  them.  Come,  what 
do  you  advocate  ?" 

The  Judge  took  his  companion's  arm  in  a 
fatherly  way  as  he  answered  him: 


88 


"  I  am  not  ready  to  tell  you  that  yet.  Bat 
let  me  point  out  to  you  a  significant  thing.  1 
have  never  known  a  Northerner  that  came 
South  who  did  not  at  once  conceive  a  personal 
dislike  for  the  negro.  No  practical,  observing 
man  ever  stays  here  long  without  opposing 
them  unmercifully.  Capitalists  because  of 
their  shiftless  labor,  and  refined  people  be- 
cause of  their  uncleanliness.  This  is  not  so 
much  the  case  with  us.  We  are  used  to  it. 
This  is  not  a  personal  question  with  us.  It  is 
one  of  statescraft." 

"  Why  don't  you  teach  them  cleanliness 
and  give  them  greater  inducements  to 
work  ?" 

"  There  are  too  many  of  them  ;  they  are 
one-half  the  cities'  population,  and  there 
are  too  few  of  us  who  are  willing  to  as- 
sist." 

"Then,"  began  Thomas  Judd  hotly,  he  hesi- 
tated, and  was  silent. 

"Well?"  asked  the  Judge. 


"  I  was  about  to  say  if  that  was  the  case  you 
might  well  suffer  the  consequences  ;  but  I  see 
that  does  not  help  matters.  Such  a  condition 
is  not  the  fault  of  the  South,  it  is  the  fault  of 
human  nature." 

"  That  is  true,"  cried  the  Judge,  earnestly. 
"  Those  who  are  blest  with  divine  hopes 
and  aspirations  are  the  guardians  of  human- 
ity. They  must  not  only  show  its  short- 
comings, but  must  shape  the  conditions  for 
the  most  perfect  development.  The  North 
should  not  judge  in  this  matter.  They  do 
not  possess  the  knowledge  of  suffering.  They 
are  no  better  than  we.  This  is  shown  by 
those  who  locate  here.  They  do  not  think 
any  more  than  others  of  their  neighbors' 
welfare.  They  haste  only  to  get  rich.  Their 
avarice  is  as  great  as  ours." 

"Then  what  would  you  do  ?" 

"  Think  over  to-night  what  you  have  seen, 
and  we  will  talk  of  this  again.  Come  to  our 
church  in  the  morning,  the  Episcopal,  and  be 


shown  to  our  pew.  My  wife  and  Annie  are 
eager  to  see  you.  They  were  quite  put  out 
that  you  would  not  come  to-night." 


IX. 


SUNDAY  morning  Thomas  Judd  sat  down  to 
breakfast  just  as  his  benefactor  of  the  day  be- 
fore was  leaving.  They  exchanged  salutations. 
One  waiter  picked  up  the  napkin  the  old  gen- 
tleman had  dropped,  another  insinuated  a 
finger-bowl  into  his  notice.  As  he  arose,  Don 
Pedro  drew  back  his  chair. 

The  skin  of  the  planter  was  white  and  deli- 
cate, his  whiskers  were  like  snowy  silk.  Those 
above  him  were  glossy  black  and  the  face 


was  coarse.  But  there  was  something  in  the 
attitude  and  air  of  each  that  caught  the  at- 
tention of  Mr.  Judd,  and,  recalling  the  words 
of  the  philanthropist,  he  thought: 

"Can  it  be?" 

When  left  alone  at  the  table  he  fell  to  medi- 
tating. All  his  theories  had  been  shaken  by 
one  day's  experience.  His  brain  resembled 
a  vigorous  forest  in  a  storm. 

He  had  always  argued  that  the  negro  could 
be  educated  into  good  citizenship.  He  had 
pointed  as  conclusive  proof  to  Fred  Douglas 
and  the  negro  Senators.  These  examples 
now  illustrated  only  the  degradation  of  their 
negro  ancestry,  and  the  necessity  of  some 
great  change. 

It  was  evident,  that  in  the  association  of 
these  two  races,  the  white  man  descended 
to  the  level  of  a  beast.  They  met  only 
in  the  mud  of  a  moral  slough.  He  looked 
up.  These  waiters  he  had  thought  yesterday 


93 


to  be  further  proof  of  great  possibilities. 
They  were,  as  a  rule,  a  courteous  and  gentle 

company,  but  now he  called  Don  Pedro  to 

him. 

"Are  any  of  your  waiters  full-blooded  ne- 
groes ?" 

"No,  sah  ;  I  don'  have  no  niggahs  in  my 
dinin'-room." 

He  brought  a  fresh  glass  of  water,  and 
continued  his  strutting  up  and  down  the 
floor. 

The  evening  before  Thomas  Judd  had  been 
nauseated  by  the  vulgarity  he  had  witnessed. 
He  was  brimful  of  negro.  The  sight  of  one 
sickened  him.  On  his  way  to  church  he  saw 
little  else.  As  he  left  the  hotel,  a  dozen  picka- 
ninnies, who  were  rushing  past,  became  en- 
tangled about  his  legs  and  the  suddenness  of 
their  contact  caused  him  to  spin  about  as 
though  caught  in  a  whirlpool.  He  came  to  a 
sudden  stop  against  the  yielding  bosom  of 
their  fat,  strong-smelling  mammy. 


94 


The  street  was  filled  with  great  crowds 
of  negroes  bound  for  church.  Every  street 
car  was  packed  with  them.  They  seemed  to 
possess  the  town.  In  front  of  a  saloon  lay 
a  beer  keg  that  had  sprung  a  leak.  A 
swarm  of  black  boys  and  girls  were  gath- 
ered around  it  holding  their  lips  to  the  crack 
and  mopping  the  wet  sidewalk  with  their 
hands. 

When  Thomas  Judd  reached  the  church, 
service  had  begun.  He  heard  the  deep  vibra- 
tions of  the  organ  as  he  ascended  the  stairs. 
The  melody  stole  softly  over  the  people 
sitting  quietly  as  he  entered.  The  light  pour- 
ing through  the  many -colored  windows 
caressed  the  ceiling,  the  audience  and  walls. 
Velvety  shadows  seduced  the  vision  by  half- 
revealed  outlines.  The  air  was  disturbed 
as  though  by  the  moving  of  wings.  A  cool, 
sweet  wind  blew  upon  his  face.  As  the 
people  rose  there  was  a  rustling  as  of  an  In- 


95 


dian  summer  breeze  in  a  forest,  and  a  deli- 
cate perfume  ascended  as  though  a  large 
white  rose  had  opened.  He  was  ushered 
down  the  long  aisle.  He  bowed  his  head  as 
though  advancing  toward  the  throne  of  God. 
He  had  suddenly  stepped  into  Paradise,  and 
the  volume  of  song  came  to  him  as  from  the 
choir  of  Heaven. 

He  had  asked  the  usher  for  Judge  Rector's 
pew.  The  Judge,  stepping  into  the  aisle,  re- 
ceived him  with  a  smile. 

A  soft  rustling  of  airy  skirts  ;  one-half  of  a 
hymn-book  gently  offered  him  ;  a  dainty 
apologetic  little  thumb  holding  down  the 
pages  of  the  other  half ;  a  slender  hand, 
concealed  by  light  tan  gloves,  appearing  to 
point  out  the  place  ;  a  quivering  smile, 
a  blush  ;  a  short,  observing  glance,  half 
merry,  half  critical,  and  altogether  modest, 
from  soft  gray  eyes,  open,  yet  full  of  shadows, 
where  lurked  appeals  for  love  and  gentle- 
ness. 


All  this  received  him  as  he  stepped  into  the 
pew — was  it  not  Paradise,  indeed  ?  One  of 
the  good  old-fashioned  Eden  kind,  such  as  we 
all  walk  into  and  are  satisfied  with  sometirne. 
A  wall  of  time  encircled  them.  They  stood 
apart  within  a  recess  of  the  mystical  realm 
of  youth.  Sympathy,  like  an  arbor  of  honey- 
suckle, enclosed  the  place.  Old  time  memor- 
ies, like  the  odor  of  sweet  thyme,  perfumed 
the  air.  He  returned  the  salutation  of  the 
father,  he  answered  the  beaming  welcome 
of  the  wife  and  mother,  he  dropped  his  eyes 
upon  the  book,  and  she  alone  seemed  present 
to  him. 

As  they  were  seated,  her  skirts  so  ar- 
ranged themselves  as  to  show  a  bit  of  white 
lace  peeping  from  beneath  the  black  dress. 
He  saw  two  little  shoes  with  pointed  tips  placed 
demurely  on  the  cushioned  foot-rest  and  he 
put  his  own  great  pair  beside  them.  She  did 
hot  look  at  him  again,  therefore  he  stole  an 
occasional  glance  at  her.  Was  this  beautiful 


97 


young  woman,  indeed,  the  little  girl  he  had 
romped  with  and  loved  ten  years  ago  ?  He 
was  delighted  to  be  so  near  her.  There 
was  just  room  enough  between  them  for  her 
little  hand  that  dropped  for  an  instant  upon 
the  seat.  He  felt  an  irresistible  impulse  to 
pick  it  up.  While  he  *.vas  hesitating  and  look- 
ing at  it,  she  suddenly  removed  the  tempta- 
tion and,  with  ablush,  placed  the  wanderer  in 
her  lap.  He  immediately  became  interested 
in  the  minister. 

How  quiet.  Only  the  monotonous  intona- 
tion of  one  voice.  The  organ  seemingly  had 
fallen  into  a  peaceful  sleep,  the  dreams  of 
which  perhaps  were  the  trembling  vibrations 
of  its  own  anthem  dying  away  within  itself. 
The  light  fell  in  colored  bars  across  the  room. 
The  dim  recesses  echoed  faintly  to  his  mem- 
ory snatches  of  old  songs.  The  cobwebs  in 
the  rafters  were  full  of  tales.  Suddenly  he 
seemed  to  see  in  the  shifting  sunbeams  the 


glint  of  wings,  and  a  multitude  of  voices 
whispered: 

"  Peace  on  earth,  good  will  to  men." 

All  at  once  a  voice  of  thunder  shouted  in  his 
ear,  "  Wake  up,  in  the  name  of  humanity." 

Restarted.  Perceiving  that  the  exhortation 
of  the  preacher  had  roused  him  from  a  partial 
doze,  he  glanced  at  her.  A  mischievous  smile 
was  playing  about  the  corners  of  her  mouth. 

After  service  they  all  walked  home  to- 
gether. 

At  the  dinner  table  Thomas  Judd  met  his 
acquaintance  of  the  hotel.  His  name  was 
Colonel  Essex.  They  had  some  conversation, 
but  his  heart  was  not  in  it.  He  accepted  an 
invitation  to  visit  the  Colonel's  plantation,  and 
did  not  think  of  him  again.  He  watched 
Annie.  He  listened  to  Annie.  He  spoke  to 
Annie.  In  everything  she  said  and  did  he 
caught  a  suggestion  of  the  little  Annie  he  had 
known  before.  They  looked  into  each  other's 


99 


eyes  and  felt  no  embarrassment.  They  knew 
each  other. 

The  house  of  Judge  Rector  stood  in  the 
centre  of  a  magnificent  lawn  that  spread 
around  it  like  a  park.  Southern  foliage, 
Southern  flowers,  and  the  limpid  texture  of 
air — who  can  picture  it  ? 

The  sunlight  smiled  in  at  the  windows,  a 
warm  wind  came  through  the  open  doors, 
sweet  with  the  odor  of  magnolias.  In  the 
afternoon  Tom  and  Annie  went  into  the 
garden. 

The  majority  of  the  world,  as  it  grows  old, 
acquires  a  respect  for  that  passion  woven 
of  sunbeams  that  is  called  first  love.  If  given 
the  opportunity,  this  would  become  the  per- 
fect love.  Is  it  not  the  purest  ?  Are  not 
children  under  the  guardianship  of  angels  ? 
In  the  morning  of  life  only  is  love 
roseate  through  mystery.  It  rises  like  the 
sun  that  forms  a  rainbow  in  the  mists. 
The  strong  and  terrible  sun  whose  rays  that 


blister  at  midday  are  tempered  then  by 
the  dew. 

Tom  had  lost  his  boy's  heart  ten  years  ago 
through  looking  too  often  into  little  Annie's 
eyes.  It  had  dropped  into  them  before  he  knew. 
Is  there  anything  so  formidable  as  a  little 
unconscious  coquette  of  eight  merry  years? 
He  had  never  quite  recovered;  and  now,  as  he 
met  her  again,  he  was  searching  for  his  heart 
within  her  woman's  eyes. 

He  threw  himself  on  the  grass,  shaded  by  a 
clump  of  live  oak  trees,  and  watched  her  as  she 
moved  like  a  languid  humming-bird  among 
the  flowers,  taking  their  sweetest  gifts  with  her 
inquisitive  little  nose  thrust  deep  into  their 
responsive  hearts,  and  her  eyes  bright  and 
mellow,  always  tempting  him  to  search 
a  little  further  into  their  own  shadowy 
depths. 

Presently  she  seated  herself  by  his  side  and 
asked  him  about  his  old  ambitions,  and  if  he 
had  found  a  happy  life. 


101 


"  Well,  I  have  had  a  busy  one,"  he  said. 
And  then  he  told  her  of  his  labors,  of  the 
pleasures  and  disappointments  of  commercial 
life.  It  was  impossible  to  resist  the  influence 
of  this  balmy  day,  and  his  voice  assumed  a 
dreamy  sound,  as  though  to  harmonize  with 
the  humming  of  the  bees,  even  when  dwelling 
on  this  prosaic  theme. 

He  told  her  that  they  had  added  large  iron 
works  to  their  other  industries,  and  that  by 
making  wood  alcohol  and  tar  from  the  smoke 
that  came  from  the  charcoal  kilns,  they  re- 
ceived a  revenue  of  $90,000  from  that  which 
formerly  went  to  waste. 

There  was  not  much  romance  about  all  this, 
surely.  The  romance  was  in  the  little  accom- 
paniment of  sympathy  with  which  she  received 
his  words  and  the  indistinct  memories  that 
floated  round  them,  as  the  delicate  pollen 
that  filled  the  air  like  a  thousand  perfumed 
messengers  from  a  world  of  flowers.  We  have 
long  since  learned  that  thoughtful,  and  even 


102 


grave  or  gloomy  men,  are  not  barren  of 
romance.  Silent  and  hidden,  it  may  yet  be 
strong  and  deep. 

Thomas  Judd's  whole  life  had  been  one  of 
unceasing  labor  both  of  mind  and  muscle. 
He  had  mixed  constantly  with  men.  Since 
his  college  days  his  father,  a  man  of  large  in- 
terests and  influence,  had  been  his  constant 
companion. 

Annie,  with  her  bright  eyes,  her  merry  ways 
and  her  quick  sympathy  with  all  his  boyish 
dreams,  had  found  her  way  by  the  side  of 
those  unruffled  waters  of  romance  within  his 
nature,  somewhere  hidden,  even  from  himself; 
and  since  then  her  foot-prints  had  remained 
upon  the  brink,  and  he  had  been  conscious 
sometimes  of  the  reflection  of  her  laughing 
face,  still  captive  there. 

It  was  most  natural  for  him  to  speak  to  her 
first  about  his  business,  as  it  had  been  always 
one  of  the  foremost  of  his  thoughts  Yet  he 
talked,  looking  almost  constantly  at  her  face. 


103 


He  told  her  of  his  frequent  plunges  into  the 
rough  camp-life  in  the  heart  of  the  forest,  both 
because  he  loved  the  hard  work  and  because 
he  wished  to  study  his  trees.  He  found  him- 
self speaking  to  her  of  those  delicate  influences 
that  he  had  before  felt  in  silence,  the  odors 
and  sounds,  and  all  the  mysterious  life  of  the 
woods.  He  recalled  scenes  in  camp-life  that 
he  had  supposed  forgotten  when  they  oc- 
curred. He  remembered  every  nook  and  cor- 
ner they  had  visited  as  children,  and  told  her 
of  the  changes  in  them. 

Sometimes  she  met  his  glance,  her  eyes 
twinkling  with  appreciation  of  his  humor, 
or  grave  and  sympathetic,  as  he  touched  upon 
his  own  inner  life.  They  were  always  sweet, 
womanly,  lovely  eyes,  and  had  no  self-con- 
sciousness in  them. 

He  told  her  of  his  ideas,  of  the  relations  of 
men,  one  to  another,  of  his  ideals,  his  dreams 
for  the  future  of  the  world,  to  all  of  which  she 
listened — listened  as  to  a  fairy  tale.  Then 


104 


came  long  pauses,  in  which  he  lay  content  to 
look  at  her,  in  which  she  sometimes  looked  at 
him  and  sometimes  at  the  sky,  or  more  often 
dreamily  at  nothing.  When  they  spoke,  their 
voices  grew  softer.  Their  questions  now 
became  more  personal,  and  their  answers 
sometimes  were  attended  by  a  meaning  not 
always  plain,  but  suggestive  and  delicate,  steal- 
ing over  the  senses  like  the  perfume  of  the 
flowers  about  them.  At  last  she  said  : 

"And  have  you  never  been  in  love  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes." 

"Very  many  times?" 

There  was  a  touch  of  roguery  in  her  side- 
long glance  and  in  the  dimples  that  dotted 
her  cheeks. 

"  No,  only  once." 

Just  the  slightest  of  perceptible  sensations 
trembled  in  her  heart  as  she  said: 

"  Why  don't  you  tell  me  about  that,  too  ?" 


105 


She  endeavored  to  look  at  him  as  before, 
but  it  was  impossible. 

"  It  was  a  long  time  ago,"  he  said,  softly. 

She  did  not  answer. 

"  It  was  ten  years  ago. 

Suddenly  she  asked,  looking  away,  "Do — 
do  you  think  you  will  like  the  South  ?" 

He  smiled  a  little  and  answered,  "  that  de- 
pends. Shall  I  go  on  with  my  love  story?" 

"  Don't,"  she  murmured,  with  her  face  still 
turned  away.  There  was  a  little  beseeching 
in  her  voice. 

And  they  both  remained  silent. 

What  can  ensue  but  happiness  when  two 
ardent  natures  think  only  of  bestowing  it  ? 

If  the  anxiety  to  please,  the  delicious  sen- 
sitiveness to  each  ether's  needs,  the  constant 
welling  of  sympathy  to  the  face  would  pass 
from  the  wooing  to  the  wedded  life,  how  little 
of  wretchedness  there  would  be. 

Had  earth's  earliest  lovers  stepped  into  the 
world  in  each  other's  arms,  and  looking  only 


io6 


into  each  other's  eyes,  they  might  have  carried 
Paradise  with  them. 

It  was  twilight  when  they  returned.  The 
Judge  met  them  on  the  steps. 

"  Shall  we  go  to  a  colored  church  this  even- 
ing, Mr.  Judd  ?  " 

"Will  you  go,  Miss  Annie?" 

"  I  can't.  My  old  mammy,  who  lives  not  far 
from  us  is  sick.  I  sit  with  her  Sunday  even- 
ings and  read  ;  but  you  must  go." 

He  thought  for  a  moment,  and  said  cordial- 
ly: 

"  Thank  you,  Judge,  it  will  be  just  the  thing. 
How  soon  do  we  go  ?" 


toy 


X. 


ADJOINING  the  Judge's  residence  were  a 
cluster  of  tumbled-down  shanties.  Further 
on  was  another  fine  place,  surrounding  which 
were  also  crumbling  clay  chimneys,  lop-sided 
roofs,  low,  unpainted  walls,  and  windows 
stopped  up  with  rags. 

"It  is  like  this  throughout  the  city,"  said 
the  Judge,  on  the  way  to  church. 

"  We  have  very  few  streets  not  encumbered 
with  this  rubbish." 


to8 


"Why  don't  you  buy  them  out?" 

"  We  have  no  money  to  spare  in  this  coun- 
try. A  few  men  would  be  obliged  to  own  the 
town.  We  have  our  ordinary  share  of  poor 
white  people  as  well  as  these  twenty  or  thirty 
thousand  blacks.  They  are  extra.  It  would 
take  a  standing  army  of  police  and  sanitary 
officers  to  keep  these  places  clean.  In  the 
summer  and  rainy  seasons  a  thick  volume  of 
filthy  steam  arises  about  us,  a  constant  incense 
to  the  throne  of  death.  Our  lawn  is  filled  with 
flowers  to  dilute  the  smell." 

As  they  reached  the  church,  the  chorister 
was  just  rising  to  announce  the  hymn. 

"  Nah  Bredren,  less  all  conceede  tow  de 
wusship  ob  de  Lowd  by  intonating  ob  de 
fahty-fust  hymn." 

The  audience  stood,  and  the  odor  that  as- 
cended with  them,  was  not  like  that  of  a  large 
white  rose  just  opening. 

Not  wishing  to  attract  notice,  the  Judge  and 
Thomas  Judd  slipped  into  one  of  the  rear  seats. 


log 


After  the  roar  of  song  had  rolled  away  and 
the  people  were  seated,  the  preacher  called 
upon  "  Bru'r  Abraham  "  to  pray. 

After  a  silence  long  enough  to  be  impress- 
ive, Bru'r  Abraham  settled  himself  firmly  on 
his  knees,  gripped  the  seat  in  front  of  him, 
Hi  ted  his  face  toward  heaven,  and  in  a  loud 
voice,  mellowed  but  not  weakened  by  age,  he 
shouted  to  the  Almighty  : 

"Great  and  omniferous  God,  smile  upon 
us  wid  de  light  ob  dy  own  precious  and 
eternal  city  'mong  de  hills  ob  eberlastin' 
joy. 

"  Oh,  great  an'  omniferous  God,  intensify  us 
wid  de  smile  ob  dy  love. 

"  Magnify  us  wid  dy  grace. 

"  Oh,  great  an'  omniferous  God.  A'mtghty 
maker  ob  de  Lamb.  SMILE  upon  us  from  'mong 
de  hills  ob  eber  lasting  joy. 

"  We's  no  'count  niggahs. 

"  Ize  no  'count  niggah. 

"  Sist'  Ann's  no  'count  niggah. 


no 


"Sist*  Mandy — oh,  Lo'd  Jesus — who  mar- 
ried Ephrum  Jones  no  mo'  'count  niggah  'n  a' 
de  rest  ob  us.  Oh,  God,  she's  no  ' count  niggah. 

"  O O—'-O oh,    Om  -  NE  -  EE  -  EE  -  FERUS    GOD 

A' mighty  'mong  de  eUlastin  hills  o  joy.  We 
isn't  none  o'  us  no  'count  niggahs  ef  you  don' 
smile  upon  us. 

"  O—oh,  GO— o— D,  fill  my  sou'  wi9  fire. 

"  Fill  Sisf  Ann's  sou'  wi'  fire. 

"  Fill  Sist*  Mandy's  sou'  wi'  fire. 

"  Oh,  Lo'd  Jesus,  Fill  Ephrum  Jones,  FILL 
us  ALL  GOD  A'MIGHTY  wi'  FIRE  FROM  DE  EBER- 
LASTIN'  HILLS  o'  joy." 

This  prayer  had  produced  a  remarkable 
effect  upon  those  mentioned  in  it.  When 
their  names  were  spoken,  each  had  mani- 
fested a  marvelous  degree  of  humility  and 
self-reproach,  and  when  Bru'r  Abraham  had 
beseeched,  with  an  infinite  variety  of  musical 
sounds,  that  they  might  be  filled  with  fire,  all 
four  burst  forth  into  a  noisy  but  strangely 
harmonious  clamor  for  the  same  great  boon. 


Ill 


Suddenly  Mandy  began  to  sing  in  a  slightly 
subdued,  yet  sweet  and  penetrating  voice,  the 
words  of  a  fantastic  hymn  : 

King  Jesus  comes  in  de  circle  ob  de  -sun, 

Oh  yes!    Oh  yes! 
To  tell  us  ob  de  wo'k  he's  done. 

Oh  yes!    Oh  yes! 
Wait  till  I  get  on  my  robes, 
Wait  till  I  get  on  my  robes. 

Oh  yes! 

Others  in  the  audience  were  beginning  to 
feel  the  religious  fervor,  when  the  prayer 
ended,  and  the  preacher  took  his  stand  be- 
hind the  pulpit,  leaned  his  sharp  elbows  on 
the  open  Bible,  clasped  his  bony  fingers  far 
in  front  of  him,  and  rolled  his  great  eyes  over 
the  audience.  It  was  a  vast  tabernacle  filled 
with  negroes.  There  were  over  one  thousand 
black  faces  turned  up  to  his.  The  slight  ex- 
citement was  subdued:  Mandy  ceased  to  sing. 
A  magnetic  silence  crept  through  the  place. 
Soon  every  eye  fixed  itself  upon  that  one  face 
— rigid  and  intense.  The  preacher  waited  a 


moment,  then  he  slowly  raised  himself  and 
said  : 

"  Bredren,  I's  goin'  to  preach  promiscus  dis 
yeah  ebening.  I've  chosen  fah  my  tex',  '  Run 
wid  patience  de  race.' 

"  When  de  Christian  Chu'ch  war  in  its 
infants,  strugglin'  amid  de  obsticulations  dat 
crushed  it  into  insignif'canse  as  it  wuz,  Paul 
ruze  up  and  tole  Tymathy  as  he'd  bin  dis- 
jointed of  God  while  in  his  gran'mammy's  loins. 

"  Bustin'  wid  holy  zeal  he  cried,  say  he: 
'Castin'  aside  de  waits  dat  does  so  easily  up- 
set us,  I'll  run  wid  patience  de  race.'  Doz 
yo'  all  see  how  yo's  'bleeged  to  run  ?" 

"  Glo'  to  God  A'mighty  !"  came  from  some 
stentorian  lung  in  the  audience. 

"  Doz  yo'  all  see  how  yo's  'bleeged  to  run?" 

"Ye,  ah/'  "Yepp."  "Yepp."  "  Come 
down,  Gabriel!"  "Oh,  LoM,  come  down!" 
answered  the  clamor  from  below. 

The  preacher  again  placed  his  elbows  on 
the  Bible,  and  clasped  his  hands.  His  face 


glowed  as  though  in  a  strong  light.  Passion 
leapt  from  his  eyes  and  shot  into  the  souls  of 
those  in  front  of  him.  A  breathless  silence 
spread  through  the  place.  It  became  oppress- 
ive. The  air  quivered  as  though  stirred  by 
the  hovering  of  a  multitude  of  invisible  bats. 
Darkness  dripped  from  the  rafters  and  filled 
the  spaces  between.  In  a  great,  murky  re- 
cess above  the  pulpit  was  an  obscure  shape. 
It  might  have  been  Ignorance  wrapped  in  its 
ponderous  wings,  gloating  over  its  domain. 
When  the  preacher  again  spoke,  he  did  not 
disturb  the  silence.  His  voice  was  subdued, 
his  accents  soft.  His  every  sound  was  mu- 
sical. All  at  once  Mr.  Judd  felt  a  tickling 
sensation  about  the  roots  of  his  hair.  He 
listened.  A  murmur  floated  to  him  as  weird 
and  sweet  as  the  wailing  of  an  aeolian  harp,  as 
faint  as  the  humming  of  a  swarm  of  bees  in  a 
distant  clover  field.  Always  a  little  louder 
than  the  rest  rose  the  chanting  of  the  preacher. 
There  was  a  multitude  of  varying  sounds 


about  him,  but  his  refrain  was  in  harmony 
with  all.  There  was  no  limit  to  his  melodious 
voice.  It  scattered  the  highest  notes  of  the 
yodel  into  the  air  like  a  shower  of  golden 
apples;  it  descended  into  the  depths  of  a 
mellow  bass.  It  lingered  through  infinite 
variations  on  musical  words.  It  was  plaintive 
and  trembling  with  subdued  power.  As  it 
rose  and  fell,  the  murmur  below  rose  and  fell 
with  it.  It  was  like  the  uneven  wailing  of  a 
tempest  through  the  masts  and  the  washing 
of  the  sea.  As  he  spoke,  he  swayed  back  and 
forth,  bending  far  over  the  pulpit  and  rolling 
his  eyes  to  heaven.  He  used  no  gestures,  but 
held  to  the  pulpit  with  both  hands,  and  threw 
all  the  power  of  his  magnetism  into  voice  and 
face  and  body. 

It  was  not  long  before  some  of  the  people 
began  to  imitate  his  motion,  and  immediately 
the  whole  vast  audience  was  swaying  back  and 
forth.  Suddenly  he  thrust  his  head  and 
shoulders  forward  and  became  silent.  A  few 


of  the  people  grew  quiet  and  watched  him. 
The  sound  of  their  responses  subsided  again 
into  a  faint  murmur. 

For  a  moment  the  preacher  remained  rigid, 
then  he  threw  his  body  back  with  a  quick  mo- 
tion until  his  head  disappeared.  In  an  in- 
stant he  was  in  exactly  the  same  position  as 
before.  He  repeated  this  horrible  contortion 
several  times,  and  at  each  was  greeted  with  ex- 
ultant shouts  from  the  old  men  and  women  in 
the  room.  At  last  he  threw  himself  into  an 
erect  position,  and,  lifting  his  face  to  the  ceil- 
ing, bellowed  "Glory,  glory,"  a  great  number 
of  times  and  with  all  the  power  of  his  enor- 
mous lungs.  His  shouts  were  like  bombs. 
There  was  an  immediate  commotion  in  the 
audience.  The  whole  room  was  filled  with 
shouts,  snatches  of  song,  hysterical  laughter, 
and  words  very  much  like  oaths.  An  arm  shot 
up  here  and  there.  In  one  corner  an  old 
woman  jumped  from  her  scat  and  fell  upon 
the  floor  in  a  fit.  Another  leaped  into  the 


n6 


centre  aisle,  and,  throwing  her  arms  above  her 
head,  screamed  until  the  blood  dripped  from 
her  mouth.  Suddenly  two  or  three  men  and 
a  woman  began  dancing  at  one  side.  The 
woman  was  screeching  terribly.  With  one 
hand  she  held  her  skirts  to  her  knees  and  with 
the  other  she  was  tearing  her  hair.  It  was 
Jemimy.  In  all  quarters  little  groups  were 
struggling  to  control  some  furious  man  or 
woman.  Everywhere  these  black  creatures  of 
both  sexes  were  sprawling  together  upon  the 
floor.  All  this  in  the  name  of  Christ.  It  was 
terrible.  Savages  trailing  the  fine  robes  of 
the  twentieth  century  through  the  mire  of 
prehistoric  times. 

This  wild,  untutored  native  in  our  midst  is 
like  a  cub  in  a  pot  of  honey.  It  may  make  a  fine 
fat  bear,  but  it  is  bad  for  the  honey.  The  con- 
tents of  this  particular  pot  is  the  hope  of  the 
world.  How  much  longer  shall  we,  the 
keepers  of  both,  allow  the  one  to  defile  the 
other? 


1F7 


We  have  cast  pearls  before  swine.  It  is 
barbarism  at  work  witn  the  tools  of  civiliza- 
tion. Shall  we  build  together  a  government? 
It  is  like  an  ape  and  an  artist  at  work  upon 
the  same  statue. 

Thomas  Judd  had  for  some  time  been  grow- 
ing convinced  that  the  negro  should  not  vote. 
He  knew  that  even  in  the  North  the  majority 
of  the  middle. and  higher  classes  believed  this, 
before  coming  South.  But  he  had  been  taught 
differently.  His  father  was  one  of  the  leading 
politicians  in  his  State  and  took  a  politician's 
view  of  it. 

He  now  believed  they  should  not  vote.  But 
should  they  be  sent  away  ?  He  broached  this 
subject  as  they  left  the  church. 

"You  speak,"  said  the  Judge,  "as  though 
we  proposed  to  take  these  fellows  by  the  head 
and  heels  and  throw  them  overboard.  That 
is  not  so.  We,  or  the  majority  of  Southern 
citizens,  who  advocate  separation,  believe  we 
owe  them  a  certain  debt,  and  that  in  getting 


n8 


rid  of  them  we  must,  so  far  as  possible,  com- 
mit no  injustice.  We  should  come  to  some 
mutual  agreement.  It  is  like  getting  rid  of 
any  objectionable  partner.  We  should  buy 
him  out.  The  nation  is  rich  enough,  and 
even  if  it  were  not,  it  would  be  a  wise  invest- 
ment." 

11  And  if  they  should  not  wish  to  go  ?" 
"  If  you  stay  here  long  enough,  you  will  see 
the  answer  to  that.  The  old  plantation  negro 
will  not  be  likely  to  leave,  but  the  new  gener- 
ation will.  They  will  never  be  allowed  to  rule 
here,  and  the  ambitious  among  them  will  in 
time  desire  to  seek  other  fields.  They  are 
constantly  moving.  See  how  they  are  pour- 
ing into  the  West,  as  they  can  well  do  in 
floods  without  affecting  materially  their 
numbers  here.  Some  of  the  colored  people 
might  remain  if  no  inducement  would  tempt 
them  to  go.  The  idle  and  the  low  should,  if 
necessary,  be  compelled." 

"  Where  would  you  draw  the  line  ?" 


"  The  line  would  draw  itself — if  not,  then  all 
should  be  forced  to  go.  Sir,  are  you  not 
aware  that  humanity  conducts  all  its  affairs 
upon  that  plan  ?  No  step  has  ever  been  taken 
in  the  cause  of  right  where  war  was  neces- 
sary, where  individual  claims  and  ideas  were 
not  over-ridden  for  the  gaining  of  the  end  in 
view.  Did  you  of  the  North  consult  the  wishes 
of  the  Chinamen  you  sent  home,  or  the  In- 
dians you  crushed?  Did  you  of  the  North  con- 
sider long  the  desires  of  the  South  when  you 
sent  your  armies  like  an  avalanche  upon  us? 

"  No,  you  worshipped  only  one  god — pros- 
perity— and  made  all  others  bow  the  knee.  It 
will  not  have  helped  matters  in  the  end  to  dis- 
tribute them  over  our  own  land.  They  are  a 
distinct  race  wherever  they  are.  There  can 
never  be  affiliation  between  us.  Then,  why 
keep  the  elements  of  discord  in  our  midst? 
Let  us  be  just  with  the  negro,  but  above 
all  things,  be  wise  for  the  nation  and  sepa- 
rate." 


120 


Mr.  Judd  was  thinking:  "I  believe  the  Judge 
is  right.  Why  should  he  not  be  ?  He  is  hon- 
est ;  he  has  a  life-long  familiarity  with  the 
text  ;  he  is  wise  and  thoughtful."  He  said: 
"  It  would  be  a  monstrous  undertaking." 
"  True,"  answered  the  Judge.  "  Therefore 
let  us  endeavor  rather  to  overcome  the  actual 
obstacles  than  to  conceive  of  possible  ones. 
The  greatest  stumbling  block  in  the  world's 
way  is  the  habit  of  hanging  on  to  impedi- 
ments. The  line  of  all  thought  should  be 
this  :  What  is  intrinsically  right  ?  What  is 
necessary?  Then — only  this — early  and  late, 
night  and  day,  how  can  I  accomplish  it  ?  " 


121 


XI. 


IT  was  a  neat  little  negro  shanty,  about  five 
squares  from  her  own  home,  where  Annie 
was  in  the  habit  of  going  on  Sundays.  She 
was  now  standing  on  her  own  porch  wait- 
ing for  Joe,  the  old  gardener,  her  escort 
upon  these  occasions. 

She  wore  no  gloves  and  held  a  Bible  in  her 
hand.  A  bit  of  white  lace  lay  lightly  upon 
her  soft  hair. 

Her  mother  appeared  in  the  doorway  and 
watched  her  for  a  moment  silently. 


122 


"Annie,"  she  said,  "you  foolish  child,  to  wear 
that  dress  to  such  a  place.  You  will  ruin  it." 

Annie  looked  at  the  delicate  blue  cloth  and 
the  swansdown  in  her  sleeves.  She  looked  at 
her  beautiful  hands,  with  their  dainty  fingers 
tipped  with  pink  nails;  at  her  soft,  white 
wrists;  then,  without  answering  her  mother, 
she  blushed,  and  the  rosy  color  crept  even  to 
the  swansdown  about  her  throat. 

The  mother  slipped  to  her  side  and,  putting 
both  arms  about  her,  said  : 

"  Annie,  look  at  me." 

But  Annie  lowered  her  head  and  blushed 
the  more.  The  mother  kissed  her  lovely  throat 
and  turned  away. 

"Mamma,"  cried  Annie,  suddenly,  stepping 
in  front  of  her  and  looking  for  a  moment  with 
misty  eyes  into  her  face,  "  don't  think  me 
foolish,  but  he  is  not  changed  at  all,  only  he 
is  wiser  and  kinder  and  talks  to  me  as  he  used 
to  do.  I  want  to  please  him,  and  do  you 
think  he'll  like  this  dress?" 


123 


"  I  think  he  will;  and  will  you  tell  me  noth- 
ing more  ?" 

<c  There  is  nothing  more  to  tell,"  said  Annie, 
as  she  laughed  and  kissed  her. 

Joe  had  come.  She  caught  her  skirts  grace- 
fully in  her  hand  and  passed  down  the  steps. 

All  the  way  to  the  shanty  the  laugh  lingered 
in  her  face,  but  in  the  shadows  of  the  dimples 
was  perplexity,  uncertainty,  and  little  flitting 
images  of  sorrow. 

Love  !  Love  !  Love  !  Ruler  of  us  all  ! 
What  art  thou  ?  Where  art  thou  ? 

Joe  followed  Annie  to  the  door  and  re- 
turned. She  knocked,  and,  without  waiting 
for  an  answer,  entered. 

An  old,  old  woman  lay  upon  the  bed — her 
face  drawn  up  into  a  network  of  wrinkles. 
It  was  black,  but  her  delicate  features  betrayed 
white  blood.  She  was  the  descendant  of  o-ne 
of  the  most  ancient  and  noble  families  of  Eng- 
land. Her  father  was  a  visitor  at  the  planta- 
tion of  her  mother's  master.  The  smile  with 


124 


which  she  greeted  Annie,  the  gentle  modula- 
tion of  her  voice,  her  language,  her  ideas,  the 
soft  light  of  her  eyes,  were  Anglo-Saxon. 
Her  skin  was  dark. 

"  How  do  you  feel  to-night,  Mammy  dear?" 

"  Not  yet,  not  yet,  honey,"  said  the  old  lady, 
patting  Annie's  face  as  she  stooped  to  kiss 
her. 

"  The  good  Lord  '11  take  me  soon.  You  may 
kiss  me  in  Heaven.  We'll  all  be  white  up 
there.  Oh,  my  God — thank  God." 

Annie  had  been  so  full  of  new  feelings  when 
she  entered  that  she  forgot  the  old  lady's 
whim.  She  drew  the  little  rocker  that  was 
waiting  for  her  up  close  to  the  bed,  and,  taking 
the  dried-up  hand  in  hers,  she  talked  to  her. 
Everything  about  the  interior  of  the  house 
was  clean  and  orderly.  The  Judge  had  hired 
a  good  nurse  to  take  care  of  her. 


125 


XII. 

ON  the  other  side  of  a  tumble  down  fence 
was  another  shanty.  It  was  a  disreputable 
looking  affair,  with  its  toppling  roof,  its  crum- 
bling clay  chimney,  and  its  battered  walls 
It  did  not  seem  to  be  there  to  stay,  but  resem- 
bled a  drunken  man  who  balances  himself  for 
a  moment  on  his  uncertain  legs  before  stag- 
gering on. 

In   the   interior   of  this    one-roomed  house 
were  two  men,  a  white  and  a  black.     The  one 


126 


was  the  orator  of  the  evening  before  in  front 
of  the  market-place,  the  other  was  Nicholas 
Blood. 

They  were  at  the  close  of  a  long  interview. 
The  white  man  was  an  anarchist,  who  had 
arrived  from  Chicago  a  few  weeks  before  to 
agitate  among  the  negroes. 

He  now  said,  as  though  in  conclusion,  rising 
from  his  seat: 

"  We  will  fairly  sweep  the  polls  away  with 
our  flood  of  black  voters.  The  people  are 
gathering  in  from  the  country.  You  are  a 
great  leader,  Nicholas  Blood;  you  know  what 
men  to  use.  Everything  is  under  your  thumb. 
All  the  meetings  you  have  ordered  are  under 
way.  There  are  three  being  held  to-night, 
two  on  Beal  street  and  one  at  the  Laborer's 
Exchange/' 

"  We  got  to  sen'  mo'  men  to  scour  de  plan- 
tations. I'll  fill  de  whole  damn  town  up.  God 
in  hell,  won't  I  bleed  'em  ef  I'm  counted  out. 
Yo'  go  to  all  de  meetin's  and  tell  de  mem- 


127 


b'rs  ob  my  committee  to  meet  me  at  twelbe 
o'clock  at  de  Laborers'  Exchange.  I  got 
a  goose  ob  anodder  color  to  pick  befo' 
den/' 

His  dark,  forbidding  face  became  terrible 
as  he  said  this. 

His  visitor,  with  a  nervous  laugh,  left  him. 
No  man  could  be  in  his  presence  and  feel 
comfortable. 

A  crushing  will,  so  fiendish  and  brutal  as 
to  impress  even  those  sordid  minds  among 
which  he  moved  as  uncanny  and  frightful, 
dwelt  always  behind  his  formidable  face.  It 
was  this  and  the  mystery  which  he  threw 
about  himself,  his  unknown  origin,  a  certain 
defined  belief  that  the  devil  had  a  hand  in  it, 
his  dogged  persistence,  his  horrible  cruelty, 
his  spirit  of  revenge  that  marked  his  enemy 
with  a  seal  of  death,  the  body  found  invari- 
ably in  some  secluded  nook  after  offence  had 
been  given  him ;  all  these  things  and  his  silence 
made  him  the  grim  master  among  the  masses 


128 


of  his  black  fellows.  Superstition  and  terror 
were  the  reins  he  held. 

There  were  two  other  qualities  that  gave 
him  success.  He  was  executive  and  possessed 
the  ability  to  use  in  the  right  places  the  men  at 
his  command.  As  soon  as  his  visitor  was  gone, 
he  fell  into  a  peculiar  mood.  He  walked  up 
and  down  the  floor  with  his  hands  thrust  deep 
into  his  pockets  and  his  head  dropped  upon 
his  chest.  If  one  could  have  read  the  secrets 
of  his  face  they  would  have  seen  passion 
struggling  with  prudence. 

Nicholas  Blood  is  a  type  and  a  prophecy. 
He  is  an  exaggerated  specimen  of  the  Metro- 
politan negro  of  to-day,  and  one  of  a  rapidly 
increasing  class.  Of  unknown  parentage  ; 
whisky,  tobacco,  the  dice  and  the  devil  for 
teachers;  envy  and  hate  his  ruling  impulses. 
He  is  desperate,  unprincipled,  discontented 
and  dangerous. 

There  are  thousands  of  these  creatures  of 
the  night  cast  from  the  profligate  womb  of  ig- 


I2Q 


norance  and  begot  of  depravity — bestial,  de- 
formed children — half  monsters — rolled  from 
the  bed  of  licentiousness,  naked,  into  the 
streets.  They  feed  upon  the  garbage  of  civ- 
ilization. Their  vocabulary  is  like  vomit. 
Were  the  laws  enforced,  magistrates  must 
meet  the  approval  of  these  slimy  creatures, 
must  be  baptized  in  mud.  But  our  men  are 
greater  than  our  laws. 

Nicholas  Blood  held  the  situation  in  his 
hands.  He  had  filled  the  country  with  agents, 
and  already  the  results  were  felt.  He  would 
fill  the  secret  places  of  the  town  with  vicious 
men.  He  would  have  every  legal  voter  at  the 
polls.  His  majority  would  be  plain  to  all.  He 
would  rely  upon  the  terror  of  the  whites,  at  see- 
ing their  city  full  of  strange  blacks,  for  a  fair 
count;  if  this  was  not  given  him  he  would  wait 
for  the  favorable  moment,  unmask  his  alley- 
ways and  rookeries,  and  bathe  the  city  in  blood. 

Prudence  whispered,  "Wait,  sacrifice  your- 
self until  that  moment  comes." 


130 


His  most  vivid  feelings,  however,  were  per- 
sonal. 

For  reasons  known  mostly  to  himself,  he 
hated  Judge  Rector.  He  hated  all  humanity, 
but  his  hatred  of  this  man  was  as  intense  and 
relentless  as  hell  fire.  The  fancied  evil  done 
him  in  the  wharf-boat  was  one  of  a  long  line 
received  in  the  court  room  and  out  of  it  for 
thirty  years.  The  fact  that  this  man  was  his 
opponent  had  added  a  ten-fold  zest  to  the  con- 
flict. 

But  the  strongest  passions  of  this  monster 
were  physical.  He  would  have  outraged  an 
angel. 

Happening  to  be  home  one  Sunday  evening 
he  had  seen  Annie  enter  the  cabin  next  door. 
He  had  spent  an  hour  of  torture  walking  back 
and  forth  in  his  little  room  and  watching  con- 
stantly from  the  window  until  she  reap- 
peared. 

Sunday  evenings  since  then  he  had  haunted 
the  place. 


Passion  tugged  at  every  fibre  of  his  heart 
and  screeching  from  its  bloody  throat.  Would 
not  her  ruin  drive  her  father  mad  ?  Hate 
laughed  at  the  conception. 

Passion  and  prudence,  there  can  be  no  more 
unequal  contest.  The  one  is  a  living  crea- 
ture of  the  present,  the  other  an  unborn  child 
of  a  future,  full  of  vague  feelings,  that  trem- 
bling thinks  itself  pregnant,  but  is  not  sure. 

After  a  time  he  blew  out  the  light,  and,  lean- 
ing against  the  window-casing,  looked  steadily 
into  the  gloomy  street.  His  eyes  were  more 
bloodshot  than  usual.  He  would  sometimes 
roll  them  in  the  direction  of  the  neighboring 
shanty.  But  at  such  times  flashes  of  a  terrible 
light  shot  from  them  and  he  would  again 
glance  fiercely  up  the  street. 

It  was  deserted  ;  church  was  not  yet  out ; 
there  was  not  a  human  being  in  sight.  Sud- 
denly he  started  from  his  position,  hastened  to 
the  door,  and  out  of  the  house.  He  ran  swiftly 
at  a  high  board  fence  that  separated  the  yard 


132 


from  a  narrow  alley,  and,  vaulting  it,  con- 
cealed himself  in  the  shadows. 

He  had  seen  some  one  pass  beneath  the  gas 
light  on  the  corner,  and  was  now  listening 
eagerly  to  the  sound  of  approaching  steps. 
They  were  slow  and  shambling. 

A  feeble  old  man  moved  by  him;  he  reached 
out  and  gripped  him  by  the  neck  so  tightly 
that  he  could  not  speak,  drew  him  into  the 
alley,  deprived  him  of  consciousness  by  a  blow 
in  the  face  with  his  fist,  gagged  and  bound 
him  with  strips  torn  from  his  coat,  and  threw 
him  to  one  side.  He  again  took  up  his  posi- 
tion in  the  shadows. 

Annie  was  anxious  to  reach  home  early  this 
evening,  and  grew  impatient  as  the  time 
passed  for  Joe  to  come.  She  had  read  the  old 
colored  woman  to  sleep  and  sat  with  hands 
fingering  thoughtfully  the  leaves,  not  thinking 
of  the  contents  of  this  book  but  of  other  things. 

She  looked  at  her  watch  and  went  to  the 
window;  it  was  very  quiet  outside;  she  could 


133 


see  no  one.  She  hesitated  a  moment  and  made 
up  her  mind  to  go  at  once.  She  threw  her  bit 
of  lace  over  her  head  and,  with  her  Bible  in  her 
hand,  left  the  house.  As  she  approached  the 
alley  she  walked  slowly.  Within  a  few  feet 
of  it  she  stopped.  What  was  the  matter  ?  She 
could  not  tell.  A  chill  of  terror  passed  over 
her.  Those  shadows  became  suddenly  too 
horrible  to  peer  into.  She  turned  and  hast- 
ened back. 

There  was  a  rush  behind  her.  She  heard 
and  tried  to  run.  All  the  strength  passed 
from  her  limbs.  Her  throat  was  choked.  She 
could  not  breathe.  She  stopped  and  caught 
the  fence  with  both  hands,  as  though  it  might 
protect  her.  She  called  once,  with  what  mad 
hope  Heaven  only  knew,  and  then — 

My  God  !  what  a  fight  is  this  !  A  virgin 
for  her  purity.  A  woman  with  pink  arid 
white  skin,  and  dainty  blue  veins.  Her  deli- 
cate limbs  fresh  from  the  bath,  perfume  steal- 
ing from  her  as  from  sweet  brier.  Fine  linen, 


134 


laces,  silk  and  soft  woolen  goods  about  her; 
her  eyes  two  wells  in  whose  great  depths  were 
the  waters  of  virtue;  her  soul  a  meadow  in 
heaven;  quivering  beneath  the  brutal  caresses 
of  a  beast,  crushed,  beaten,  her  garments,  her 
hair,  her  flesh  torn.  Exposed  to  the  lecher- 
ous gloating  of  his  eyes,  the  greedy  touch  of 
his  hands,  the  slobbering  of  his  swollen  lips. 
She  looks  at  death,  and  it  is  more  glorious 
than  Paradise.  She  knows  no  more. 


XIII. 

JUDGE  RECTOR  and  Thomas  Judd  walked 
on  in  silence  for  some  time  after  their  last 
conversation.  Both  were  meditating.  After  a 
while  Mr.  Judd  asked: 

"Are  there  no  decent  people  among  the  full- 
blooded  negroes  ?  I  understand  that  Nicholas 
Blood  is  entirely  black,  and  he  is  something  of 
a  hero,  is  he  not  ?" 

"There  are  those  among  them,"  answered 
the  Judge,  "who  are  good-hearted  and  mean 


136 


well.  Some  have  a  certain  quantity  of  brains. 
The  most  advanced  among  them,  however, 
are  a  thousand  years  behind  the  very  founders 
of  our  race.  At  such  statements  the  whole 
world  clamors  out,  '  Give  them  time,  educate 
them.  Twenty-five  years  ago  they  were  slaves. 
What  can  you  expect  of  them  ?'  And  we  an- 
swer, 'Give  them  time,  educate  them.  But 
meanwhile  let  us  save  our  own  civilization  or 
they  will  smother  it.  Take  them  away  from 
the  avaricious  and  licentious  of  our  own 
people.  Above  all,  let  us  separate  before 
there  is  greater  hatred  and  more  blood- 
shed.'" 

In  reality  the  two  men  agreed.  Mr.  Judd 
had  not  arrived  at  this  conclusion  so  much  on 
account  of  Judge  Rector's  words,  although 
they  had  presented  the  theoretical  situation  in 
a  new  light  to  him  from  the  very  first.  It  was 
due  to  the  sights  he  had  witnessed,  the  actual 
condition  of  the  race,  and  the  absolute  unen- 
durableness  of  their  presence. 


137 


The  first  utterance  of  the  Judge  had  sud- 
denly revealed  to  him  the  fact  that  to  consider 
this  question  from  the  standpoint  of  the  ne- 
gro's convenience  alone,  was  to  be  worse  than 
one-sided.  He  saw  now  that  those  who  prated 
most  about  protection  for  the  negro  had  party 
interests  to  serve,  or  loved  to  throw  mud  at 
the  South.  They  did  not  seem  to  care  for  the 
ultimate  perfection  of  a  government  that 
would  be  alike  benign  to  all  and  furnish  a 
solution  to  the  problem  of  life,  if  only  their 
political  party  was  perpetuated.  Certainly 
they  cared  no  more  for  the  souls  and  real  wel- 
fare of  the  negro  than  for  the  financial  and 
social  well-being  of  the  South.  He  began  to 
suspect  that  the  great  party  of  the  North  cast 
their  nets  baited  for  this  shoal  of  votes,  and 
then  through  their  press  and  their  politicians 
preached  upon  the  cruelty  of  fishing  and  the 
inalienable  rights  of  these  helpless  creatures  of 
the  deep.  It  was  not  until  a  few  days  later 
that  he  learned  that  the  great  party  of  the 


138 


South  was  doing  the  same  thing  with  even 
better  prospects  of  success.  He  saw  then,  as 
all  unprejudiced,  honest,  and  patriotic  citi- 
zens must  see,  that  all  the  difficulties  in  the 
way  of  an  immediate  settlement  were  piled  up 
by  the  politicians  of  both  North  and  South, 
who  recognize  in  the  negro  and  the  civil  war 
their  only  weapons.  They  are  like  unprin- 
cipled physicians,  who  constantly  open  old 
wounds  that  they  may  have  something  to  do. 
Take  these  from  them,  and  they  will  be 
brushed  aside  with  the  close  of  to-day.  The 
mummy  will  no  longer  be  enthroned  king. 
He  will  find  his  proper  niche  in  the  museum 
of  the  past,  and  General  Progress  shall  be 
made  commander  of  our  hosts.  The  people 
shall  arise  and  call  him  master.  There  will 
be  a  change  of  front.  Honest  folks,  who  have 
before  opposed  each  other,  will  join  hands. 
Patriots  shall  no  longer  be  divided.  It  will  be 
one  step  nearer  to  that  time  whose  glory  the 
Christian  and  the  Optimist  must  see  shining 


139 


faintly  through  the  mist  of  the  ages  yet  to 
come;  the  great  problem  solved;  harmony  in 
the  relations  of  humanity;  the  world  ripened 
by  the  fulfillment  of  the  seasons,  ready  to 
pass  into  an  eternity  of  spiritual  life. 

The  two  men  were  walking  slowly.  Neither 
of  them  noticed  the  long  silence,  broken  at 
last  by  the  Judge,  who  said: 

"We  will  go  by  way  of  old  Aunt  Hope- 
ful's, and  join  Annie  if  she  has  not  yet 
gone." 

All  thought  of  the  negro  and  his  future  was 
at  once  swept  away  by  the  flood  of  light  and 
music  that  filled  him  at  the  mention  of  Annie. 
He  bowed  his  head  upon  his  breast  and  con- 
templated her.  The  great  hush  that  filled  this 
lonely  quarter  they  were  passing  through  had 
swallowed  up  the  Judge  beside  him  and  all  the 
world. 

Silence  within  is  more  vast  than  the  uni- 
verse. It  has  no  end,  for  it  fills  the  soul.  As 
we  peer  into  it  and  study  the  endless  sweep  of 


140 


its  heaven,  we  see  a  multitude  of  stars  that 
twinkle  there,  shedding  abroad  a  soft  twi- 
light until  the  sun  appears,  closing  their  eyes 
with  touches  of  its  glory. 

Then  all  is  made  plain  and  flowers  spring 
up.  Memory  is  a  reflection.  When  the  sun  is 
gone,  the  soul  is  seen  by  starlight,  vague,  un- 
certain; sometimes  it  is  filled  with  holiness; 
often  it  is  lugubrious. 

He  was  alone  with  Annie,  guiding  her 
through  the  most  secret  regions  of  his  soul. 
His  whole  being  was  filled  with  the  presence 
of  his  unconscious  love.  Suddenly  the  silence 
was  rent  with  an  abruptness  that  confused 
him. 

He  saw  that  the  Judge  was  running  on  in 
advance,  and,  coming  suddenly  to  himself,  he 
hurried  after.  As  he  turned  the  corner,  he 
saw  a  little  beyond  two  people  struggling. 
One  was  a  woman;  he  saw  her  torn  from  the 
fence  to  which  she  held  and  crushed  to  the 
sidewalk  He  dashed  forward.  Both  men 


141 


were  agile  and  powerful  and  the  Judge  reached 
the  spot  first.  The  ruffian  sprang  to  his  feet 
and  fled. 

Thomas  Judd  hurried  toward  the  Judge. 
He  was  bending  over  the  body  at  his  feet 
with  a  look  of  insanity.  His  features  were 
distorted  with  horror.  He  recovered  himself 
in  a  moment,  and  motioning  Judd  away,  picked 
up  the  unconscious  girl  in  his  arms. 

Mr.  Judd  saw  that  it  was  Annie.  Her  hands 
were  bleeding;  her  hair  was  disheveled.  The 
sidewalk  was  covered  with  swan's-down.  A 
tempest  of  agony  and  fury  swept  through 
him.  He  caught  sight  of  a  negro  running 
into  the  alleyway  and  rushed  after  him.  As 
he  reached  it,  nothing  was  visible  down  its 
narrow  dark  length;  with  the  memory  of  that 
face,  white  and  suffering  before  him,  he  plunged 
into  the  shadows.  Suddenly  he  stumbled  over 
Joe's  body  and  fell.  He  heard  a  muffled  groan, 
and  investigated  the  cause  of  his  fall.  Carry- 
ing the  body  to  the  street,  he  unbound  it.  As 


142 


soon  as  the  man  could  talk  and  Mr.  Judd 
could  find  out  who  he  was,  he  helped  him 
home  and  sent  him  in  to  inquire  for  Annie. 
The  Judge  came  to  him.  He  had  grown  old 
within  an  hour. 

"  Tom/'  he  said  gravely,  "  we  must  say 
nothing  of  this.  We  white  people  of  the 
South  cannot  publish  these  frequent  out- 
rages. It  would  ruin  us.  For  Annie's  sake 
we  must  be  silent.  You  will  probably  not  see 
her  again.  She  will  not  wish  it." 

The  Judge,  with  a  sad  smile,  held  out  his 
hand.  Tom  took  it,  wrung  it  silently  and 
went  away. 


143 


XIV. 

IN  the  morning  he  sent  a  great  bunch  of 
flowers  to  Mrs.  Rector  and  a  note  to  the 
Judge  asking  after  Annie.  The  answer  came 
that  she  was  not  injured  seriously  but  was 
suffering  from  a  terrible  shock,  and  that  she 
would  be  sent  to  the  mountains,  and  that  then 
he  must  come  back  to  them.  This  news  made 
it  possible  for  him  to  go  with  the  Colonel 
when  he  called  for  him.  It  was  a  magnificent 
drive  to  the  plantation,  which  was  only  a 


144 


short  distance  from  the  city,  but  the  Colonel 
took  him  many  miles  out  of  the  way  in  order 
that  he  might  see  the  country. 

This  whole  region  had  once  been  covered 
by  a  sturdy  forest.  On  every  side  of  them 
were  broad  fields  filled  with  little  bushes 
looking  as  though  winter  had  swept  through 
them,  leaving  in  every  available  place  bunches 
of  snow.  Around  nearly  all  the  plantations 
extended  the  forest  of  oak  and  maple  and 
gum  trees.  Just  where  the  cotton  fields  ended 
and  the  woods  began,  nestled  the  negro  cab- 
ins, placed  there  so  that  the  people  in  cutting 
the  trees  for  firewood  might  clear  more  land. 
Occasionally  there  were  strips  of  country 
cleared  through  to  the  river  in  the  distance,  and 
they  could  see  steamers  moving  up  or  down. 

It  was  about  the  middle  of  the  morning, 
and  every  field  was  full  of  laborers.  There 
were  four  generations.  Three  working,  and 
the  fourth  piled  altogether  near  the  wagons, 
left  to  fight  and  squall  and  play. 


T45 


Judd  did  his  best  to  keep  the  terrible  sight 
he  had  witnessed  from  his  mind.  But  it  was 
hard  to  show  any  degree  of  interest  in  all  these 
things  about  him.  It-was  with  very  little  spirit 
that  he  asked: 

ft  What  would  you  people  do  down  here  for 
labor  if  you  should  send  the  negroes  off  ?" 

"  That's  all  nonsense.  I  say  leave  'em  alone. 
I  reckon  they're  all  right  where  they  are,"  an- 
swered the  easy-going  old  Colonel. 

"  But  there  are  some  who  don't  think  so." 

"  Oh,  yes,  a  right  smart  of  'em,  too.  My  son 
don't.  He's  at  one  of  your  Northern  Colleges, 
and  has  a  large  farm  in  Ohio  that  he  tends  to. 
He  says,  ship  the  negroes  off  and  make  room 
for  white  laborers.  He  reckons  that  one  Ger- 
man or  Norwegian  farmer  is  worth  twenty 
niggers.  He  says,  fill  up  the  country  with 
people  who  can  become  good  Americans 
within  two  generations,  at  least,  and  this 
will  be  the  richest  portion  of  the  New 
World." 


146 


"  But  you  don't  agree  with  him,  eh  ?" 
"  Oh,  I  dunno.  He  may  have  the  right  of 
it.  But  I'd  hate  to  see  'em  go.  I  like  'em 
'round.  I've  always  lived  with  'em.  They're 
a  shiftless  and  improvident  lot,  but  we  don't 
need  to  work  hard  nor  save  anything  down 
here.  We  can  raise  two  or  three  crops  of 
everything,  and  don't  need  to  get  more  than 
half  of  each." 

He  was  a  handsome  old  man.  His  face  was 
too  sensual,  and  had  the  appearance  of  being 
a  trifle  too  well  fed,  but  there  was  a  gentle, 
delicate  refinement  about  it  that  produced  a 
look  of  benevolence.  This  whole  country  was 
like  this  face.  Beautiful  by  nature,  but  stamp- 
ed with  the  impress  of  waste  and  neglect. 
They  passed  frequent  swamps  filled  with  the 
most  beautiful  cypress  trees.  No  one  thought 
of  clearing  the  land.  No  one  thought  of  sell- 
ing the  timber.  Now  and  then  clumps  of 
cabins  or  an  old  residence  appeared  by  the 
roadside.  They  were  the  dwelling  places  of 


filth  or  desolation.  Whenever  there  was  a  gate 
to  open,  long  before  they  reached  it,  a  rabble 
of  ragged  pickaninnies,  their  black  and  shin- 
ing hide  everywhere  exposed,  appeared  from 
some  quarter  and  made  a  race  for  it,  tum- 
bling over  each  other,  and  howling  like  young 
devils.  The  one  who  reached  it  first  received 
a  nickel  or  a  dime  from  the  Colonel. 

After  many  windings  about,  they  reached 
their  journey's  end. 

A  swarm  of  good-natured  negroes  sur- 
rounded them  as  they  approached  the  gate. 
A  half  dozen  unhitched  the  horses,  eight  or 
ten  reached  into  the  buggy  for  bundles  and 
baggage,  and  all  the  rest  stood  around  and 
watched. 

"  Where  do  they  all  come  from  ?  What  are 
they  here  for  ?  How  do  they  live  ?  Why  are 
they  idle  ?"  asked  Mr.  Judd. 

"  There's  plenty  of  'em  to  do  the  work. 
I'm  the  only  white  man  in  a  thousand.  These 
fellows  here  haven't  spent  all  their  money  yet, 


i48 


I  reckon.  They  can  earn  from  $8  to  $15  a 
week.  There's  just  one  thing  that  '11  make  a 
nigger  work — hunger/' 

It  was  the  house  gate  in  front  of  which  they 
had  stopped.  A  path  led  from  this  to  the 
dwelling.  Mr.  Judd  had  heard  this  house 
spoken  of  as  a  model  of  plantation  elegance, 
and  expected  to  see  something  of  a  mansion. 
It  was  a  low,  disjointed  affair,  possessing 
neither  romance,  elegance,  nor  grace.  The 
whole  place  was  ramshackle  and  shiftless.  It 
had  not  seen  paint  for  many  years,  and  was 
very  much  stained  by  the  weather.  A  few 
rods  to  one  side  of  the  gate  stood  the  planta- 
tion store.  It  looked  like  a  Connecticut  farm- 
er's tool-house.  The  steps,  the  fence,  and  the 
banks  of  dirt  by  the  roadside  were  covered 
with  negroes.  These  lolling  fellows  appeared 
very  well  fed  and  infinitely  lazy.  Mr.  Judd 
felt  an  irresistible  desire  to  sweep  the  whole 
plantation  clean  of  men  and  buildings  and 
begin  to  construct  a  new  civilization  upon  the 


149 


spot.  The  Colonel's  family  were  away,  and 
only  Uncle  Samson  and  Aunt  Ruth  were  in 
the  house.  After  dinner  Mr.  Judd  was  taken 
to  the  gin-house,  to  the  pasture,  to  the  garden 
where  the  third  crop  of  potatoes  was  being 
dug,  and  where  the  second  crop  of  beans  was 
growing,  and  into  the  orchard  where  many  of 
the  trees  had  put  forth  their  blossoms  and 
were  bearing  small  apples  for  the  second  time 
before  the  first  fruit  was  gathered. 

"  You  must  make  a  mint  of  money  off  vege- 
tables and  fruit/'  said  Mr.  Judd. 

"  Bless  you,  we  don't  sell  any  of  it.  What 
we  don't  want  we  throw  away/' 

"  Throw  away  ;  why  don't  you  raise  hogs  ?" 

"  What  do  we  want  with  hogs  ?  I  reckon 
we  can  get  a  right  smart  living  out  of 
cotton." 

"  Colonel  Essex,  there  is  a  fortune  wasted 
on  this  plantation  every  year.  You  should 
raise  other  things.  I  judge  there  is  nothing 
that  will  not  grow  here.  The  soil  which  is 


150 


a  marvel  now  would  be  infinitely  better  for  a 
change  of  crops." 

"  What  do  we  want  with  better  soil  ?  You're 
just  like  my  son/'  chuckled  the  contented  old 
gentleman.  "  I  reckon  the  old  way  is  good 
enough  for  me." 

"  Here's  your  moss-back  Democrat/'  thought 
Mr.  Judd.  "  Just  like  our  interior  Massachu- 
setts Republicans.  It  is  true  that  a  few  men 
must  run  the  world.  The  rest  are  too  lazy." 

At  supper  a  negro  girl  of  eighteen  or 
twenty  years  appeared  to  wait  on  them.  It 
was  Jemimy.  She  was  the  daughter  of  old 
Aunt  Ruth  and  her  father  was ? 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  our  country  ?" 
asked  the  Colonel,  as  they  were  seated  on  the 
wide  porch  after  supper. 

"  To  be  frank  with  you,  there  are  too  many 
negroes.  Why,  Colonel,  I  had  no  conception 
of  the  way  they  swarm  down  here.  No  won- 
der the  '  poor  whites  '  are  driven  to  the  moun- 
tains ;  it  is,  I  should  judge,  impossible  for  any 


man  to  compete  with  these  negroes,  who  don  t 
seem  to  care  how  they  live." 

"  Oh,  you'll  get  used  to  them  if  you  stay 
here  long.  We  don't  have  much  trouble  with 
them.  They  know  their  place  pretty  much, 
though  they  are  becoming  a  heap  more  im- 
pudent in  town  than  they  were  a  few  years 
ago.  Well,  Jemimy,  what  is  it?" 

"  Dis  yer  city-nigger,"  said  Jemimy,  indir 
eating  with  a  nod  a  sheepish-looking  darky 
who  stood  a  little  behind  her,  hat  in  hand 
and  executing  a  series  of  humble  bows, 
"he's  hyar  again,  I  kain't  keep  him  away 
nohow." 

"I  reckon  it's  because  you  don't  'low  to," 
laughed  the  Colonel,  banteringly. 

"  B'fo'  de  Lo'd,  Marce  Gunnel,  I  does.  But 
dey  isn't  no  kind  o'  use,  he'd  come  foolin' 
aroun',  I  reckon,  if  de  Lo'd  hisself  'lowed  he 
shouldn't." 

"Well,  shall  I  set  the  dogs  on  him;  is  that 
what  you  want,  Jemimy?" 


152 


"Marce  Gen'l/'  broke  in  Jock,  hastily,  "I 
isn't  gwine  t'  stay  hyar  no  time.  Dis  yer 
nigger  gal  isn'  no  'count.  I  isn'  come  to  see 
her  nohow.  I  'lowed  to  see  Marce  Gen'l." 

The  Colonel  good-naturedly  requested  him 
to  speak.  After  insisting  that  Jemimy  should 
retire,  Jock  told  what  we  can  tell  in  much  less 
time  and  space. 

Two  political  agitators  from  town  were 
holding  a  meeting  in  the  quarters  and  were 
urging  the  "  collahed  people  "  to  take  part  in 
a  big  uprising  that  was  to  occur  on  election 
day. 

"Well,  let  'em  agitate,"  cried  the  Colonel. 
"You  don't  reckon  I'm  going  to  bother  my- 
self about  those  damned  niggers  ?  There  ain't 
any  one  on  this  plantation  got  anything  to 
complain  of,  unless  it  is  that  every  black 
beggar  among  'em  owes  me  money.  You 
all  go  down  there  and  tell  'em  that  if  there  is 
any  disturbance  around  here  I'll  shoot  every 
nigger  on  the  place.  Damn  'em/' 


153 


He  continued,  turning  to  Judd:  "  The  last 
few  years  have  played  the  very  devil  among 
'em.  They  move  about  so  much,  and  every 
time  they  move  they  seem  to  grow  more  rest- 
less. Uprising?  What  the  devil  do  they  rise 
up  for?" 

Tom  had  intended  to  remain  at  the  planta- 
tion several  days,  or  until  the  Judge  should 
notify  him  of  Annie's  departure.  This  he 
found  was  impossible. 

Annie's  sorrow  had  taken  the  work  of  time 
into  its  own  hands.  Sympathy,  the  gossamer 
from  which  love  is  spun,  instead  of  being 
drawn  from  him  by  the  fingers  of  sleepy 
events,  had  been  wrung  out  by  the  hand  of 
disaster. 

He  did  not  say  to  himself  that  he  loved  her, 
but  the  thought  of  her  leaving  and  that  he 
should  not  see  her  again  for  an  indefinite 
length  of  time,  made  the  monotonous  hours  of 
the  possible  separation  stretch  out  before  him 
until  they  became  unbearable. 


154 


Tuesday  evening  he  told  the  Colonel  he 
must  go.  The  Colonel  protested  warmly. 
But  he  pleaded  important  business  which 
must  be  attended  to  early  on  the  following  day 
and  would  not  yield  to  the  hospitable  entrea- 
ties of  his  host.  With  many  protestations  of 
regret  he  took  his  leave  shortly  after  supper, 
asking  the  Colonel  to  send  his  "  traps  "  on  in 
the  morning,  as  he  wished  to  walk  to  town. 

The  Colonel,  no  doubt,  but  little  appreci- 
ating them,  was  obliged  to  submit  to  the 
eccentric  desires  of  his  guest. 


155 


XV, 

IT  was  only  a  mile  or  so  to  the  city.  Tom 
would  have  liked  it  better  had  it  been  twenty. 
There  had  suddenly  settled  upon  him  a  mel- 
ancholy that  he  thought  to  throw  off  by  the 
use  of  his  long,  powerful  limbs,  too  long  idle. 
He  strode  hastily  through  the  gate  and  down 
the  road.  As  he  looked  over  the  earth  and 
saw  all  about  him  the  half-tended  fields  bear- 
ing their  profligate  luxuriance,  and  the  clus- 
tering cabins  peeping  from  the  forests  and 


156 


making  their  nests  in  the  midst  of  the  mead- 
ows like  toads  in  a  forsaken  paradise  ;  as  he 
caught  snatches  of  exquisite  melody  from 
here  and  there,  floating  to  him  as  from  the 
lips  of  some  lovely  nymph  imprisoned;  as  he 
thought  first  of  the  voluptuous  cheeks  and 
double  chin  of  the  white-haired  planter,  and 
then  of  this  whole  country,  breathed  upon  by 
the  warm  breath  of  indolence  and  caressed  by 
the  enervating  fingers  of  licentiousness;  as 
he  remembered  the  rumors  of  riot  and  blood- 
shed that  filled  the  air,  a  fierce  sadness  arose 
within  him  and  beat  with  hot  hands  upon  his 
brain  and  heart. 

He  was  like  a  strong  man  plodding  through 
a  vast  wilderness,  looking  always  for  the  end 
where  there  is  no  end.  The  mass  of  longgrasses 
and  brittle  weed  that  caught  his  feet,  the  stub- 
born entanglement  of  bushes  that  thwarted  his 
vision  and  stung  his  face,  the  trees  that  hung 
like  a  cloak  between  him  and  heaven — these 
were  like  the  problems  of  humanity. 


157 


His  soul  was  in  a  tempest. 

But  there  were  open  places  in  the  wilder- 
ness, green  meadows  filled  with  violets  and 
white  clover;  bowers  through  which  the  stars 
shone;  streams  that  dimpled  in  the  sunlight; 
places  in  the  road  where  the  shadows  of  the 
leaves  fell  like  freckles  on  the  silvery  dust. 

There  were  lulls  in  the  tempest. 

The  open  places  were  filled  with  Annie — 
picking  flowers  in  the  meadow  draped  in  sun- 
light, more  mysterious  than  the  stars.  Her 
smile  the  dimpling  of  the  stream,  her  eyes 
like  the  shining  dust,  flecked  with  shadows. 

The  storm  ceased  at  her  coming.  She  was 
the  mistress  of  its  sigh. 

Suddenly  he  came  to  a  bend  in  the  road  and 
saw  in  front  of  him  a  man  hurrying,  as  he 
was,  toward  the  city,  whose  church  steeples 
could  now  be  seen,  blurred  in  the  gloom,  but 
plain  against  the  moonlit  sky.  Beyond  this 
man  was  a  cross  road;  as  he  looked,  another 
man  came  from  it  and  turned  also  toward  the 


158 


city.  He  gazed  over  the  fields  to  the  right 
and  left  and  saw  here  and  there  moving  fig- 
ures. He  glanced  hastily  behind  him.  A 
man  was  following,  and  in  the  distance  he 
thought  he  could  distinguish  others. 

He  recognized  all  those  near  enough  as 
negroes.  They  moved  as  though  in  stealth. 
There  were  no  groups,  but  every  figure  was 
alone.  They  all  carried  sticks  that  might 
have  served  either  for  a  club  or  staff.  At  first 
he  was  alarmed.  But  no  one  noticed  him. 
There  was  no  word  spoken  or  signal  given 
one  to  another.  Each  might  have  been  the 
solitary  being  in  a  universe.  In  place  of  ter- 
ror the  spirit  of  mystery  seized  him.  There 
was  nothing  natural  about  all  this.  There 
was  something  hidden.  The  night  was  charged 
with  dread. 

When  he  reached  the  city  it  was  midnight. 
Had  the  sleeping  houses  opened  their  heavy 
lids  they  would  have  been  startled  at  the 
strange  figures  creeping  through  the  streets. 


159 


It  was  seventy-two  hours  before  election 
day,  and  the  restless  negroes  throughout  all 
that  portion  of  Tennessee  were  moving  at 
night  toward  Memphis. 


i6o 


XVI. 

ALL  that  night  Tom  saw  Annie  in  his  rest- 
less dreams,  and  in  the  morning  his  first 
thought  was  of  her.  Was  she  suffering  now  ? 
Did  she  care  to  see  him  ?  Or  did  she  not 
think  of  him  ?  He  must  know. 

He  found  himself  walking  in  the  direction 
of  Judge  Rector's  home.  What  should  he  do  ? 
He  could  not  decide.  He  came  to  the  gate  and 
hesitated.  Should  he  go  in  ?  He  could  not. 
What  excuse  could  he  offer  ?  He  glanced  at 


the  windows.  The  blinds  were  closed.  Per- 
haps she  had  gone  away.  An  unbearable 
loneliness  came  over  him.  For  the  first  time 
he  realized  how  completely  she  had  filled  his 
thoughts  and  the  future  of  his  life. 

The  future — there  is  nothing  so  delicate. 
It  rises  from  the  present  like  incense  from  a 
flower.  There  is  nothing  so  changeable.  It 
is  like  the  vague,  flitting,  undecipherable 
shadow  of  the  firelight  on  the  wall.  It  alters 
with  the  substance  of  every  moment.  We 
catch  a  glimpse  of  it,  we  ponder  over  it — we 
look  again,  it  is  not  there.  Another  shape  is 
in  its  place,  sometimes  more  beautiful,  yet 
more  often  it  is  terrible. 

Where  had  she  gone? 

Was  there  no  message  for  him  ? 

He  was  forgotten. 

Why  not?     What  was  he  to  her? 

Suddenly  he  saw  her  in  the  garden.  The 
sunlight  dazzled  him.  The  perfume  of  the 
flowers  took  his  breath  away. 


1 62 


XVII. 

A  WOMAN  is  miserable  if  not  as  spotless  as 
a  new  lily.  There  are  women  who  cannot  see 
that  which  is  unclean  without  longing  for  the 
toilet.  Such  suffer  by  insult  the  shame  of 
guilt.  Annie  recovered  consciousness  before 
reaching  home.  She  shuddered  in  her  father's 
arms.  She  did  not  look  at  him.  He  laid  her 
on  her  bed,  and  when  the  mother  came  she 
hid  her  face  and  moaned  : 

"  Let  me  die,  I  am  a  wretch.  Oh  God, 
why  must  I  live  ?" 


163 


"  Annie  \" 

"  How  can  you  bear  to  be  near  me  ?" 
"  Come,  darling,  I  will  undress  you." 
"No,  no  !"  she  gasped  wildly,  and,  spring- 
ing up,  she  attempted  to  undress  herself, 
while  her  mother  watched  her  through 
streaming  tears.  But  her  hands  trembled  so 
that  she  could  not  undo  her  dress.  She  sank 
back  upon  the  bed.  Her  mother  took  off  the 
dainty  shoes  and  silk  stockings,  the  woolen 
dress  and  underskirts  of  fine  linen  and 
edges  of  lace.  Annie  buried  her  face  in  the 
pillow  and  moaned.  The  mother  would 
have  no  one  in  the  room.  She  was  serv- 
ant. 

There  are  mothers  who  are  like  reeds — 
shaken  in  the  strong  wind  of  their  affection. 
They  know  no  sorrows  of  their  own,  but  the 
troubles  of  their  children  suffocate  them. 
Humble  and  claiming  nothing  for  themselves 
they  believe  God  honored  in  blessing  those 
whom  they  love. 


164 


Their  children  are  the  very  centre  of  their 
souls.  Their  breath  is  the  beating  of  their 
hearts.  If  they  suffer,  every  fibre  of  life  pants 
for  immediate  relief. 

Clothed  in  a  robe  as  white  and  dainty  as 
though  spun  of  cobwebs,  Annie  was  at  last 
tucked  snugly  into  bed.  She  was  more  quiet 
now.  With  balm  on  her  hands  and  a  mother's 
love  anointing  her  soul,  she  fell  asleep  sob- 
bing fitfully  even  then. 

In  her  dreams  the  angels  lifted  her  to 
Heaven  and  sprinkled  on  her  brow  the  water 
of  virtue. 

As  the  next  day  passed,  she  grew  melan- 
choly. She  had  been  expecting  something. 
What  ?  She  could  not  say.  A  hope  at  which 
she  did  not  dare  to  look  had  trembled  in  her 
heart.  It  vanished  with  the  twilight.  There 
was  nothing  said  of  him.  He  did  not  come  to 
the  house.  She  would  have  been  frightened 
at  meeting  him — and  yet — would  she  never 
see  him  again  ?  What  a  weary  thing  life  is  ! 


i65 


On  the  second  day  she  left  the  house  and 
stole  into  the  garden.  Sadness,  like  a  veil, 
enveloped  her.  Of  what  was  she  thinking? 
Who  need  ask  ? 

A  woman's  soul  is  like  a  SKiff  upon  the  in- 
finite ocean  of  love,  which  may  be  found  in  the 
calm  of  morning  resting  lightly  on  the  sands, 
but  when  the  sea  is  roused,  is  swept  away. 
And  how  quickly  is  the  sea  aroused  !  First  a 
gentle  breath,  suddenly  the  tempest. 

Love?  But  there  is  no  definition  for  it.  It 
is  not  an  accident,  a  chance,  a  thing  which 
may  come.  It  is  not  an  ideal  dweller  of  some 
other  realm  that  must  be  sought  if  found,  that 
must  be  wooed  to  come  to  us.  Its  birth- 
place is  within  us.  It  is  the  very  centre 
of  life.  Perhaps  it  is  the  composition  of 
the  soul. 

It  cannot  be  likened  to  the  sea  ;  it  cannot 
be  likened  to  a  garden.  It  is  infinite.  It  con- 
tains all  things ;  the  heavens  above  the  earth, 
where  the  stars  twinkle  at  the  million  dark 


1 66 


gateways  of  eternity  ;  the  caverns  under  the 
earth  that  penetrate  the  mysteries  of  self 
where  we  hesitate  to  tread  for  fear  of  being 
lost — the  realm  of  insanity. 

Would  you  see  the  fruit  of  all  this  ?  Behold 
the  earth.  It  is  covered  with  verdure.  The 
wealth  of  the  verdure  is  a  multitude  of  buds. 
Every  bud  knows  its  own  sunbeam  at  whose 
kiss  it  unfolds  its  leaves  and  pours  out  its  per- 
fume. This  is  the  final  offering  of  the  soul. 
It  is  the  breath  of  love. 

There  are  few  women  who  are  strong 
enough  to  sustain  silent  love. 

Annie's  little  hands  trembled  as  they  ca- 
ressed the  flowers.  Her  step  was  like  that  of 
the  blind.  How  little  we  know  of  that  other 
self  with  which  we  are  constantly  commun- 
ing but  which  we  seldom  recognize. 

It  was  this,  that  needs  no  eyes  to  see.  that 
whispered  to  Annie  now  as  she  bent  above  the 
fragrant  lips  of  an  opening  rose. 

"  He  is  coming." 


She  heard  the  whisper.  Strength  forsook 
her  as  though  it  were  made-up  of  wings. 
Her  hand  faltered  out  in  search  of  some  sup- 
port ;  finding  none,  it  dropped  helplessly  at 
her  side.  She  bowed  her  head  and  waited. 

"  Annie. " 

The  voice  so  gentle,  strong,  and  with  a 
little  beseeching  in  it,  seemed  to  bring  her  the 
power  to  live.  She  turned  away  her  face  to 
conceal  her  tears. 


168 


XVIII. 

THE  next  day  business  was  allowed  to  take 
care  of  itself — nothing  was  thought  of  but  pol- 
itics. 

Through  all  the  streets  and  in  every  office 
excited  groups  gathered  from  time  to  time. 
All  were  alarmed  at  the  congregation  of  ne- 
groes. The  city  was  already  full  of  them.  Mr. 
Judd  was  surprised  that  in  all  of  these  dis- 
cussions nothing  was  said  of  the  election  it- 
self, but  only  of  that  which  might  come 


i69 


afterward.  He  heard  Judge  Rector  already 
spoken  of  as  president  of  the  council.  But  it 
seemed  to  him  that,  counting  only  those  who 
could  legally  vote,  the  negroes  must  out- 
number the  whites,  who  were  divided  among 
themselves.  The  negro  voter  was  not  spoken 
of,  it  was  the  negro  mob  that  was  feared.  Oc- 
casionally a  company  of  citizens  or  a  uni- 
formed guard  marched  through  the  street  to 
the  merry  whistle  of  the  fife  and  the  clamor 
of  the  drum.  They  were  passing  to  or  from 
the  drill. 

Tom,  on  entering  the  hotel,  late  in  the  day, 
heard  the  voice  of  Judge  Rector.  He  turned 
to  one  side  so  as  not  to  be  seen  by  him.  He 
wished  him  to  see  Annie  first. 

One  of  the  leading  Democratic  politicians 
of  the  city  was  saying,  as  he  passed  : 

"  Such  a  move  would  be  death  to  Democ- 
racy. What,  send  the  negro  off?  One-half 
the  population  of  the  South  ?  Have  you  not 
noticed,  Judge,  that  the  younger  generation 


170 


of  niggers  are  voting  with  us  rather  than  with 
white  Republicans  ?  The  time  will  come  when 
all  this  swarm  will  be  Democrats,  provided  we 
work  them  right.  And  meanwhile  we  can 
vote  for  them." 

A  shrewd  wink  and  laugh  closed  this  sen- 
tence. 

"  Sir/'  answered  the  Judge,  severely, 
"  would  you  sacrifice  the  future  of  the  coun- 
try, and  the  speedy  coming  of  the  kingdom  of 
God,  that  the  Democracy  might  live  ?  It  is 
such  doctrine  as  this  that  is  damning  us  both 
North  and  South.  Are  you  not  afraid  that 
while  the  Republican  and  Democratic  parties 
are  fighting  like  dogs  for  the  government,  the 
devil  will  run  off  with  it  ?" 

"  By  God!"  answered  the  politician, "I  would 
rather  it  would  go  to  hell  than  be  run  by  Re- 
publicans." 

There  was  no  want  of  excitement  at  any 
hour  of  the  twenty-four.  All  day  long  troops 
were  drilling  and  anxious  men  were  con- 


suiting  among  themselves.  At  night  there 
were  torchlight  processions  and  great  mass 
meetings. 

No  one  knew  what  might  happen.  The 
whole  city  was  full  of  forebodings.  Ominous 
sounds  came  from  Beal  street  at  midnight, 
and  stole  like  evil  spirits  to  the  bedside  of 
sleepless  multitudes. 

Belated  travelers  told  of  suspicious  figures 
skulking  among  the  shadows,  of  alleyways 
filled  with  strange  sleepers,  of  hidden  nooks 
from  which  peered  brutal  faces,  of  deserted  re- 
cesses where  stood  the  silent  sentinels  of  some 
sinister  event. 


172 


XIX. 

THE  Laborers'  Exchange  is  a  two-story 
shanty  on  Hadon  avenue,  a  short  distance 
from  Beal  street.  On  the  ground  floor  is  a 
saloon,  over  the  door  of  which  is  painted  in 
red  letters  : 


A  SANWICH,  A  PIE 

AND  A  SKUNER  OF  BEER 

10  CENTS. 


Over  the  saloon  are  two  rooms,  one  large 
and  overlooking  the  street  ;  the  other  small 
with  a  window  opening  above  a  yard  filled 


173 


with  slops,  ashes,  beer  kegs,  and  empty  bottle 
cases. 

A  door  of  rough  planks  divides  the  two. 

In  the  smaller  one,  Nicholas  Blood  and  a  ne- 
gro barber  woman  were  consulting.  The  wo- 
man was  a  monstrous  creature,  with  a  dirty 
rag  wound  about  the  crown  of  her  head. 
From  this  to  her  enormous  shoulders  was  a 
gradual  slope  upon  all  sides.  One  sleeve  torn 
off  revealed  a  brawny  arm.  Her  dress  was 
unbuttoned  to  her  waist.  She  looked  at  Nich- 
olas Blood  when  he  spoke,  with  admiration 
visible  upon  her  animal  face.  She  was  an 
absolute  beast.  He  was  more  ferocious  and 
cunning. 

"  When  F  go'n'  do  't  ?"  asked  the  woman. 

Nicholas  Blood  answered,  as  he  dismissed 
her,  "Befo'  mornV." 

Lying  upon  the  floor  in  the  larger  room  was 
another  woman.  She  lay  upon  her  back,  as 
though  she  had  fallen  there.  She  was  half- 
naked.  Both  arms  were  outstretched  upon 


174 


the  floor.  In  one  hand  she  held  the  neck  of  a 
whisky  bottle.  Fragments  of  glass  were 
strewn  about  her.  There  was  no  evidence  of 
wasted  liquor. 

Every  drop  was  visible  in  the  swollen  face. 
When  the  visitor  was  gone,  Nicholas  Blood 
approached  her. 

"  Hyah  !  yo've  slept  long  'nuff." 

He  leaned  over  and  spit  upon  her.  She  did 
not  move.  He  kicked  her.  A  stream  of  blood 
trickled  from  her  nose.  He  bent  down  and 
examined  her. 

She  was  dead. 

With  an  oath  he  turned  away. 

He  paced  the  floor  until  nearly  evening, 
busy  with  his  plans.  As  the  shadows  began 
to  approach,  he  picked  the  woman  from  the 
floor,  and  placed  her  on  a  table  standing  at  one 
side.  He  covered  her  with  a  ragged  overcoat. 

It  was  the  night  before  election. 

The  climax  of  his  life  was  approaching.  In 
this  hour  he  knew  that  in  the  end  was  defeat, 


175 


but  before  that  time,  tumult  and  horror  should 
leap  from  his  hand.  Those  whom  he  hated 
should  wallow  in  their  own  blood.  He  looked 
at  his  terrible  arms,  and  laughed  at  his  power 
to  kill. 

A  few  hours  from  that  time  a  company  of 
negroes  were  gathered  in  the  room,,  and  an 
unlimited  amount  of  whisky  was  brought 
from  below.  The  negroes  drank  among  them- 
selves and  grew  boisterous. 

Nicholas  Blood,  the  anarchist,  and  two 
others  were  alone  in  the  smaller  room,  mak- 
ing the  last  arrangements  for  the  morrow. 

These  three  were  his  counsellors.  Those  in 
the  other  room  were  all  picked  men,  under 
whom  the  masses  acted. 

Such  men  as  Philander  Matthews  and  the 
clerk  of  the  court  were  used  only  for  public 
meetings  and  the  like.  They  knew  nothing 
whatever  of  the  doings  of  this  body. 

When  the  plans  were  complete,  the  four 
stepped  into  the  larger  room. 


176 


As  soon  as  Nicholas  Blood  appeared  the  re- 
velers became  quiet,  and  dropped  their  eyes 
or  looked  at  him  askance.  A  new  manifesta- 
tion of  his  vengeance  had  been  given  them 
that  night.  As  they  were  passing  in  a  body 
along  Beal  street,  they  were  stopped  by  the 
barber  woman  in  front  of  her  door.  She  told 
them  to  follow  her.  They  filed  through  the 
shop  and  found  there — Jock. 

"  I  foun'  'im  eer  jes'  now,"  said  the  woman. 

The  men  at  once  recalled  the  quarrel  in  the 
slop-shop,  and  without  a  word  hurried  to  obey 
the  summons  of  their  chief. 

They  did  not  notice  the  blood  spots  on  the 
barbers  chair.  Poor  Jock — good-natured  and 
generous,  must  you,  and  those  like  you,  be 
victims  of  this  coming  strife? 

Let  us  draw  the  curtain  across  the  fiendish 
ceremonies  that  ensued. 

Voodouism  has  been  described.  It  will,  there- 
fore, not  be  necessary  to  record  the  horrors 
invoked  to  play  upon  the  superstitious  terrors 


177 


of  these  semi-civilized  savages.  It  is  certain 
that  the  dead  woman  played  her  part  in  the 
taking  of  oaths  and  the  terrible  warnings 
given.  Death  was  the  unseen  deity  that  pre- 
sided there,  and,  with  her  spectral  fingers 
stained,  the  orders  issued  were  a  ghastly 
crimson.  It  was  a  red,  red  wine,  drunk  to 
the  health  of  Old  Nick  that  night. 

How  simple  and  how  terrible   these  orders 
were  we  shall  see. 


178 


XX. 

ELECTION  day  dawned  clear  and  cold.  Day- 
light found  the  streets  in  great  disorder. 
Swarms  of  rioters  had  passed  all  night  un- 
challenged in  them.  No  attempt  had  been 
made  to  keep  the  peace.  All  were  afraid  to 
precipitate  the  disaster  that  threatened  from 
every  side.  By  doing  nothing  to  provoke  re- 
bellion it  was  hoped  the  storm  might  be 
averted.  The  city  had  telegraphed  to  Nash- 
ville and  Chattanooga  for  help.  The  answer 


179 


came  back  that  all  the  men  that  could  be 
spared  would  go,  but  that  certain  mysterious 
discoveries  made  it  necessary  to  keep  a  suffi- 
cient number  to  protect  their  own  cities  in 
case  of  an  uprising  among  the  negroes. 

Early  in  the  morning  these  re-enforcements 
arrived,  and,  together  with  all  the  home  guards 
and  bands  of  citizens,  marched  through  the 
city  in  order  to  overawe  the  rioters. 

Every  one  who  could  vote  was  at  the  polls. 
Long  before  the  time  great  lines  were  formed 
and  the  balloting  was  heavy  from  the  first. 

At  the  beginning  the  prevailing  color  was 
white,  but  the  line  grew  rapidly  darker  until  it 
became  almost  black.  Men  were  constantly 
challenged,  but  there  were  no  illegal  voters 
found.  Such  were  unnecessary.  The  end 
would  have  been  the  same,  whoever  counted 
actually  the  most  votes. 

Judge  Rector  was  elected  and  the  negroes, 
contrary  to  expectations  and  fears,  quietly 
disbanded.  Here  and  there  some  drunken 


i8o 


darkey  made  a  disturbance,  but  the  great  ma- 
jority of  them  scarcely  murmured  as  the  mass 
melted  away. 

The  Judge,  Thomas  Judd,  and  a  few  other 
gentlemen  had  watched  the  streets  from  the 
Peabody  ;Hotel  during  the  day.  When  the 
balloting  was  over  the  Judge  turned  to  Mr. 
Judd  and  asked  him  home  to  six  o'clock  din- 
ner. 

On  the  way  to  the  house,  he  said,  taking 
Tom's  arm: 

"  You  have  seen  Annie." 

"  Yes." 

The  Judge  pressed  his  companion's  arm  and 
both  men  were  silent  for  some  time,  then 
they  spoke  of  Col.  Essex's  plantation,  and  the 
election. 

The  ladies  met  them  on  the  steps,  eager  for 
the  news.  Annie  was  nearly  herself  again. 
Despair  cannot  dwell  with  hope.  In  youth 
the  past  pales  before  the  glory  of  the 
future. 


"  Was  there  any  riot  ?"  asked  both  the  ladies 
in  a  breath. 

"  Everything  was  quiet." 

"  Would  it  remain  so  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Rector, 
looking  at  her  husband,  because  she  did  not 
wish  to  observe  that  Mr.  Judd  still  held  her 
daughter's  hand. 

"It  was  more  than  likely.  The  negroes 
were  frightened  by  the  troops.  There  might 
be  some  little  trouble,  but  not  much." 

During  the  evening  Tom  said  : 

"  I  could  not  understand  at  first,  Judge, 
how  you  could  accept  such  an  election  as  the 
one  of  to-day.  The  negroes  surely  cast  the 
most  votes." 

"  But  you  do  now.  It  is  logical  enough.  If 
I  believe  it  just  to  break  the  law,  I  must  not 
shirk  my  share  of  the  responsibility.  I  did 
not  wish  the  office.  But  a  man  to  do  his  duty 
as  a  citizen  must  not  withhold  his  influence  in 
public  affairs.  I  believe  that  every  honest 
man  should  accept  the  nomination  offered 


182 


him,  with  a  complete  understanding  between 
his  purposes  and  his  constituency." 

After  this,  the  conversation  turned  upon  the 
old  days  of  slavery  and  the  war. 

"  Father,"  said  Mrs.  Rector,  "  I  believe  that 
Mr.  Judd  would  be  interested  in  some  of  the 
contents  of  our  old  relic  chest  in  the  garret. 
I  will  go  and  get  them." 

Relics — what  are  they  but  fragments  of  the 
heart  ?  A  few  stray  bits  within  a  basket, 
found  by  chance  among  the  rubbish  of  some 
dusty  chest  ;  others  look  through  cobwebs  at 
a  heap  of  common  bits.  You  peer  through 
the  gossamer  of  forgetfulness  at  a  multitude 
of  spirits  hovering  near  them. 

Love  is  the  life  of  relics.  A  friend  holds  up 
a  stone.  It  is  an  indifferent  thing. 

"Take  it/'  he  says  ;  "it  is  cold  within  your 
hand."  You  look  at  him.  There  is  a  ruddy 
light  in  his  eyes.  "  My  sweetheart  dropped  it 
from  her  window  into  my  hand.  It  was  life  to 
me  I" 


What  has  become  of  the  stone  ?  It  has  been 
touched  by  love.  It  is  transformed.  You  hold 
a  heart  within  your  hand. 

The  old  folks  fingering  these  trinkets  told 
romances.  Tom  and  Annie  read  them  in 
each  other's  eyes. 

They  talked  of  the  Rebellion.  It  was  the 
same. 

War  is  for  the  perpetuation  of  the  country. 
The  country  is  for  the  protection  of  the  home. 
The  home  is  the  very  nesting-place  of  love. 

This  is  the  law  of  life.  All  things  work- 
ing together  produce  harmony,  and  working 
together  in  harmony  produce  all  things.  God 
is  the  spirit  of  harmony.  He  who  cannot 
love  is  a  discord.  To  abandon  one's  self  to 
love  is  to  become  a  part  of  life.  Is  the  af- 
fection for  another  being  love  ?  It  is  a  part  of 
it.  To  fill  one's  self  full  of  God  is  to  love.  It 
is  to  work  together  in  harmony  with  all 
things.  And  marriage  ?  That  is  another 
matter.  It  is  a  necessity  of  our  times.  It  is 


i84 


law  substituted  for  love,  which  is  divinity. 
It  is  a  stitch  in  the  torn  raiment  of  humanity. 
Law  is  itself  a  substitute.  Why  do  we  need 
it  ?  Because  men  have  refused  to  work  to- 
gether in  God.  They  must  be  .protected 
therefore  one  from  another. 

Do  I  present  a  paradox  in  withholding  from 
this  group  of  four  the  element  of  discord  ?  It 
is  around  such  centres  that  the  kingdom  of 
God  revolves.  There  are  those  who  do  not 
sit  in  the  shadow  of  prejudice.  When  such 
meet,  they  shake  hands,  even  if  their  fingers  do 
not  touch.  They  walked  together  in  the 
sunlight  of  the  eternal. 

Torn  did  not  wish  to  be  alone  with  Annie,, 
He  talked  with  the  Judge  and  Mrs.  Rector. 
Annie  loved  best  to  listen.  Her  intelligent, 
sympathetic  eyes  were  an  inspiration  to  those 
who  looked  into  them. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  relics  were  laid 
aside,  and  the  past  gave  place  to  the  present 
and  the  future. 


185 


"  It  is  not  necessary  to  judge  souls,"  said  the 
Judge  ;  "  we  must  not  hate  the  negro  because 
we  know  him  to  be  beastly.  It  should  not  be 
hatred  that  sends  them  off.  God  surely  did 
not  hate  the  devil  ;  yet  in  order  to  preserve 
a  perpetual  type  of  perfection  it  was  neces- 
sary to  divide  the  inhabitants  of  heaven.  If 
we  can  but  preserve  only  the  elements  which 
may  be  made  to  harmonize,  in  time  America 
may  become  a  type." 

"What  we  need/'  said  Tom,  "  is  a  regula- 
tion of  the  ballot  that  will  require  every  man 
to  write  his  own  ticket  and  the  purpose  of  his 
vote.  We  have  ignorant  and  depraved  white 
people  as  well  as  negroes  all  over  the  land." 

"  I  believe  in  such  a  regulation  of  the  vote," 
answered  the  Judge.  "  It  will  come  in  time. 
The  negroes  are  no  worse  than  ignorant,  de- 
praved whites.  I  have  heard  that  fact  quoted 
as  an  argument  why  the  negro  should  not  be 
asked  to  emigrate.  It  is  not  to  the  point.  A 
depraved  German  may  have  had  a  very  fine 


1 86 


grandfather  and  his  grandson  may  become  an 
American  statesman.  A  negro  will  be  forever 
a  negro,  and  the  member  of  a  nation  infinitely 
behind  us,  without  amalgamation.  I  did  not 
show  you,  Tom,  the  terrors  of  Beal  street  in 
the  spirit  of  reproach,  but  that  you  might  see 
the  effects  of  freedom,  their  unrestrained  con- 
tact with  the  evil-minded  of  our  own  race, 
and  the  utter  impossibility  of  any  harmonious 
action  as  citizens  between  them  and  us.  So 
long  as  they  are  here,  whether  as  freemen  or 
as  slaves,  they  will  be  the  prey  of  the  licen- 
tious of  our  own  race.  They  will  be  petted, 
debauched,  and  agitated  for  their  votes.  The 
lawless  will  secure  them  as  followers.  They 
will  fatten  at  the  sewers  of  progress.  Envy 
of  our  superiority  will  ferment  among  them. 
In  time,  anarchy  will  seek  its  stronghold  in 
their  midst.  Their  powers  of  reproduction 
will,  within  a  single  century,  make  them  nu- 
merically our  equals,  and  the  threat  of  to-day 
in  this  city  will  be  the  disaster  of  America." 


"I  cannot  believe,"  said  Mrs.  Rector,  anx- 
iously, "  that  we  are  to  have  a  quiet  night. 
Annie,  shall  we  make  you  up  a  bed  in  our 
room  ?" 

"I  feel  perfectly  safe,"  answered  Annie. 


i88 


XXI. 

IN  the  night  Annie  was  awakened  from  a 
deep  sleep  It  was  an  instantaneous  plunge 
from  the  shadows  into  self.  There  was  no 
sound.  No  noise  had  aroused  her.  It  was 
terror.  The  darkness  and  silence  gave  birth 
to  a  troop  of  forebodings  that  thronged 
about  her  like  a  multitude  of  imps.  It  was 
unbearable.  Her  heart  fluttered  and  stood 
still.  Every  nerve  trembled  and  her  staring 
eyes  sought  desperately  to  pierce  the  night 


for  those  hideous  objects  that  imagination 
fills  it  with.  It  was  not  possible  to  remain 
there.  Made  bold  by  the  overwhelming  weight 
of  her  apprehension,  she  crept  from  the  bed 
and  fled  through  the  terrible  halls  and  down 
the  interminable  stairway  toward  the  room 
of  her  father  and  mother. 

Never  since  she  was  a  little  girl  had  such  a 
feeling  possessed  her.  Was  it  caused  by  the 
recent  horror  that  still  retained  its  impress 
on  her  brain  and  the  general  expectancy  which 
she  had  shared,  that  something  terrible  was 
to  occur?  This  might  have  had  its  influence. 
But  it  was  more  than  all  else  due  to  that  sub- 
tle something  that  unites  souls,  that  draws 
the  father  across  the  world  to  the  bedside  of 
his  child,  that  suddenly  announces  as  you  sit 
cosily  in  your  own  quarter  the  death  of  a 
friend.  It  was  this  that  needs  no  sleep,  that 
wanders  off  when  we  slumber  and  returns 
laden  with  dreams  to  awaken  us,  which  com- 
ing suddenly  upon  a  ghastly  sight  had  rushed 


I  go 


tumultuously  back  to  her  and  tore  at  her  very 
heart-strings  with  its  tidings. 

She  was  arrested  at  the  threshold  by  terror 
which  once  again  laid  its  hand  upon  her.  She 
leaned  against  the  door  and  sought  to  tear 
from  the  darkness  its  secrets.  The  shutter 
of  one  of  the  windows  had  been  opened. 
Suddenly  a  red  flame  shot  up  to  the  sill, 
and  its  light  flashed  for  an  instant  into  the 
room. 

She  saw  a  brutal  figure  bending  over  the 
bed. 

As  the  darkness  swept  round  her  again, 
she  heard  a  sharp  knife  drawn  swiftly 
through  flesh,  and  a  low,  rushing,  gurgling 
sound.  Her  head  became  suddenly  light. 
Everything  grew  vague  and  unreal.  She  was 
not  conscious  of  what  she  did.  The  win 
dow-sill  caught  fire,  and  the  murderer 
straightening  himself  saw  Annie  with  white 
face  and  wide  vacant  eyes  listening  like  an 
angel  at  the  door  of  hell.  She  turned  and 


groped  her  way  up  the  stairs.  He  followed 
her. 

Tom,  on  retiring  to  his  room,  had  thrown 
himself  half  dressed  upon  the  couch.  He  was 
awakened  by  a  sound  at  his  door.  As  his  eyes 
opened  a  light  flared  into  them.  He  raised 
himself  on  his  elbow  and  looked  from  the 
window.  The  light  came  from  a  burning  house. 
He  tried  to  recollect  what  had  roused  him. 
As  he  listened,  he  heard  something  fall  softly 
against  his  door.  He  sprang  up  and  opened 
it.  He  was  face  to  face  with  Nicholas  Blood. 
At  his  feet  lay  Annie. 

Nicholas  Blood  drew  back  at  the  sight  of 
this  tremendous  man  in  front  of  him.  It  is 
the  most  perfect  strength  that  is  not  shown  so 
much  in  bulk  as  by  an  atmosphere  of  vigor 
that  is  part  of  it. 

Tom  mastered  every  inch  of  his  large  frame 
so  easily  that  no  one  ever  realized  how  big  he 
was.  He  gave  to  those  who  saw  him  an  idea 
of  power  without  attracting  too  much  atten- 


tion  to  himself.  It  was  this  atmosphere  sur- 
rounding him  that  rebuffed  Nicholas  Blood  for 
the  moment. 

Thomas  Judd  fearing  thai  in  the  struggle 
Annie  would  be  trampled  on,  sprang  over  her, 
and  grappling  with  the  great,  black  brute 
upon  the  other  side,  endeavored  to  push  him 
from  her. 

He  knew  at  once  that  the  contest  would  be 
formidable.  He  found  himself  struggling  with 
two  huge  arms  that  hugged  him  until  his  ribs 
bent  inward.  He  passed  his  right  hand  across 
the  monstrous  shoulders,  straininga  little  lower 
than  his  own,  and  gripped  the  muscle  of  the 
negro's  fore-arm.  With  his  left  he  seized  one 
of  the  wrists  at  his  waist  and  wrenching  it  from 
him,  hurled  the  negro  some  distance  from  the 
door  and  followed  after.  Nicholas  Blood  re- 
covered himself  withahowlof  rage.  He  slipped 
his  razor  from  his  sleeve,  opened  it  and  made  a 
pass  at  Judd,  who  caught  the  blow  upon  his 
left  arm.  The  blade  was  buried  in  the  flesh. 


193 


Thomas  Judd  on  the  instant  caught  a 
glimpse  of  his  opponent's  throat  exposed  and 
planted  his  fist  upon  it;  his  whole  weight  was 
in  the  effort.  It  stopped  the  negro's  breath  and 
sent  him  staggering  against  the  wall.  He  re- 
peated the  blow.  The  negro  fell  heavily  upon 
the  floor.  Before  he  could  recover  Tom  rushed 
upon  him,  picked  him  bodily  from  the  floor 
and  dashed  him  headlong  into  the  hall  below. 
He  lay  quivering  in  a  heap  where  he  fell. 
The  hall  was  full  of  smoke.  He  laid  Annie 
tenderly  upon  his  bed  and  rushed  down  stairs 
for  her  mother.  The  whole  lower  part  of 
the  house  was  in  flames.  He  dashed  through 
them  to  the  bed-chamber.  He  returned  stag- 
gering, his  face  white  and  horrified.  But 
there  was  no  time  to  think  of  what  he  had 
seen.  He  must  hurry  to  Annie — even  her 
rescue  might  now  be  impossible.  He  re- 
turned with  a  few  bounds  to  his  room  and 
took  her  in  his  arms.  The  great  stairs  were 
afire.  It  was  dangerous  to  attempt  the 


I94 


descent.  He  re-entered  his  room  and  ran 
to  the  window.  It  was  not  too  far  to  jump. 
He  threw  up  the  sash,  and,  holding  her  with 
one  arm,  dragged  mattress  and  clothes 
from  the  bed  and  tumbled  them  to  the 
ground.  These  broke  the  fall  somewhat,  but 
Annie  was  aroused  by  the  shock.  A  vague 
sense  of  something  terrible  haunted  her.  She 
threw  both  arms  about  Tom's  neck  and  clung 
to  him  desperately. 

This  was,  indeed,  a  rude  awakening.  But 
they  had  no  time  to  recover  from  it.  It  was 
necessary  to  get  out  of  sight.  All  over  the 
city  were  burning  buildings. 

A  sound  arose,  composed  of  cries  of  hate  and 
terror,  oaths,  coarse  laughter  and  the  clamor 
of  despair.  It  was  a  banquet  of  blood.  Min- 
gling with  the  sound  of  revelry  rose  the  wails 
of  butchered  victims. 

Disciplined  troops  were  useless.  They 
rushed  frantically  here  and  there,  but  could 
find  nothing  to  fight  but  flames. 


Sometimes  they  saw  a  cluster  of  negroes  set- 
ting fire  to  a  house  and  shot  into  them.  If 
they  met  a  mob  they  would  charge  upon  it. 
It  would  disappear  over  fences  and  down  al- 
leyways, leaving  in  its  wake  a  multitude  of 
fires  and  the  mangled  bodies  of  the  helpless. 
Their  object  was  to  destroy. 

There  had  been  no  onslaught  by  a  mass  of 
men.  In  the  middle  of  the  night  solitary  fig- 
ures and  groups  of  three  arose  from  the 
bushes  in  every  portion  of  the  city  decoyed  by 
the  silence  into  a  disastrous  sleep. 

They  applied  the  torch  and  entered  the  bed- 
chambers. It  was  the  advent  of  Assassination, 
the  genius  of  this  coming  strife. 

The  only  crowd  that  had  collected  was  near 
the  market  on  Beal  street.  This  was  composed 
of  a  rabble  of  men  and  women.  They  had 
swarmed  about  this  locality  for  hours,  watch- 
ing the  gradual  spreading  of  the  bonfires 
all  about  them  through  the  night  and 


I(y6 


greeting  every  new  blaze  with  fresh  bursts 
of  joy. 

Some  one  suggested  that  they  rush  in  a 
body  through  the  town  and  destroy  all  strag- 
glers. 

The  mob  at  once  obeyed.  With  the  instinct 
of  crowds  they  poured  out  upon  the  street  and 
dashed  all  together  in  one  direction,  greeting 
all  those  inspired  cries  that  come  from  great 
bodies  of  excited  men,  like  flashes  from  a 
thunder  cloud,  with  shouts  and  frantic  yells. 

As  they  passed  the  house  of  Philander  Mat- 
thews, ali-tle  old  man  rushed  from  the  gate, 
his  white  hair  disheveled  and  his  blue  eyes 
bright  with  agony.  He  waved  his  arms  and 
called  to  them  to  stop.  They  answered  him 
with  savage  cries.  He  ran  into  their  midst, 
begging  of  them  madly  to  stop.  He  was  swept 
from  his  feet,  and  trampled  on  by  the  ruthless 
mob.  They  vanished  into  the  night,  but  he 
did  not  move.  The  blood  stained  his  soft 
locks  with  crimson. 


i97 


The  levee  was  all  ablaze  with  light.  Five 
thousand  cotton  bales  were  burning  on  it 
The  compress  factories  and  oil  mills  appeared 
like  mountains  of  fire  in  the  distance.  Nearly 
all  the  boats  along  the  shore  were  ablaze. 
After  infinite  labor  and  many  retreats  into 
alleyways  and  dark  recesses  to  escape  the 
mob,  Tom  made  his  way  here  and  hurried 
down  the  steep  descent,  with  Annie  still  half 
unconscious  in  his  arms.  The  hot  paving 
stones  burned  his  feet. 

Some  distance  down  the  river  was  a  steam- 
boat untouched  by  the  flames. 

He  found  a  hiding-place  in  its  shadows. 

He  sank  down  exhausted.  Annie  still  clung 
to  his  neck  with  all  her  strength.  He  could 
scarcely  breathe,  but  he  did  not  unfasten  those 
stifling  arms.  His  face  was  bleeding.  His 
body  was  bruised  by  the  missiles  of  his  pur- 
suers. His  bare  feet  were  cut  and  blistered 
by  the  hot  stones.  As  he  was  panting  in  this 
momentary  retreat,  he  heard  the  noise  of  the 


198 


rioters.  They  were  coming  there.  There  was 
but  one  way  out — the  river. 

He  hastily  tore  a  strip  of  cloth  from  his  gar- 
ments and  tied  Annie's  wrists  together  about 
his  neck.  He  stepped  to  the  edge  of  the  boat, 
and  letting  himself  gently  into  the  water, 
struck  out  from  shore.  They  disappeared  in 
the  shadows. 

Even  as  we  see  beyond  the  night  an  old  age 
of  love  and  usefulness  awaiting  them,  may  we 
not,  with  an  equal  trust  in  the  heroism  of  our 
country,  pierce  this  forecast  of  gloom,  and  see 
beyond  peace  and  prosperity  ? 


I99 


XXII. 

THE  United  States  census  of  1880  gives 
Memphis  a  population  of  33,592  ;  of  this 
number,  15,000  are  colored. 

To-day  a  population  of  80,000  is  claimed. 
The  negroes  have  increased  much  more  rapid- 
ly than  the  whites. 

This  prophecy  of  Blood  and  Ashes  is  spoken 
of  Memphis,  because  the  author  is  more  fa- 
miliar with  it  than  with  other  cities  of  the 
South. 


With  the  exception  of  its  "  Dark  "  side,  there 
can  be  no  more  magnificent  metropolis.  In 
1888  its  aggregate  clearings  and  balances  were 
$136,865,017.90.  All  this  wealth  and  the 
beauty  it  has  built  is  at  the  mercy  of  thirty- 
five  or  forty  thousand  creatures  of  another 
blood,  the  majority  of  whom  are  unprincipled. 
Ferocious  may  seem  too  strong  a  word  to  ap- 
ply to  this  people.  If  you  think  so,  study  our 
modern  metropolitan  negro,  and,  laying  aside 
the  roseate  illusions  of  our  romancers,  tremble 
at  the  future  with  them  among  us.  The  char- 
acters and  incidents  of  Southern  life  hereto- 
fore presented  have  been  of  a  more  genial 
kind.  Thank  God  such  do  exist.  But  the 
characters  and  possibilities  of  this  sketch  arc 
true  also.  The  whole  great  South  is  at  last 
awakening  from  its  long  sleep.  But  across  the 
face  of  her  new  and  glorious  day  rests  this 
ominous  shadow. 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


RENEWED  BOOKS  ARE  SUBJECT  TO  IMMEDIATE 
RECALL 


9  516968 


Henry,  A. 

Nicholas  Blood, 
candidate. 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


